


Trading Up

by KillerInADress, YoursTrulyx194



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blaise is stylish, Draco's a drama king, F/M, Fluff-ish?, Harry is straight! He swears he is!, M/M, Much hate on Harry's glasses, Multi, Slow Build, So Not as Cliche as it sounds, Temporary Magical Bond, okay maybe a little, re-do 7th year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-03-20 23:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3668844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerInADress/pseuds/KillerInADress, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoursTrulyx194/pseuds/YoursTrulyx194
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My name is Harry Potter!" Blaise Zabini shouted, eyeing Draco Malfoy's wand with alarm. "And I can prove it,"</p><p>/Slash/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Potions

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Trading Up. (Aka: Boy Swap)
> 
> Rating: PG-13 (Or T) for language.
> 
> Paring: Harry/Blaise –Friendship-, Blaise/Ginny, Draco/Harry. (Slash)
> 
> Summary: (Old) - A Gryffindor and a Slytherin swap bodies?! So… it's just another day at Hogwarts, then.
> 
> Two boys thrown together in a strange potion accident and even stranger feelings are starting to take over. Can they go back to how it was before?
> 
> Probably not.
> 
> (New) - "My name is Harry Potter!" Blaise Zabini shouted, eyeing Draco Malfoy's wand with alarm. "And I can prove it,"
> 
> /Slash/
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter owns himself! I just…you know…borrow him from time to time…with or without permission is really not the question you should be asking here.
> 
> Written by: KillerInADress.
> 
> Special thanks to my co-writer/Bestie: YoursTruly.
> 
> Warning: There is -AU, Re-do 7th year, fluff, drama,- and just plain old -WTF, Crackish,- ahead.

**Chapter One: The** _**Worst** _ **Potions' Pairing.**

* * *

"My name is Harry Potter!" Blaise Zabini shouted, eyeing Draco Malfoy's wand with alarm. "And I can prove it,"

**|9 and ¾ hours Earlier|**

Ronald Weasley groaned loudly over his morning tomatoes and toast. "Potions," He complained sullenly. "Our first class of the bloody morning just  _had_  to be Potions."

Ron's best mate, Harry Potter, mimicked his grumbling while his other friend/girlfriend just sighed heavily.

"Oh, really now," She sighed again. "It's not that bad, you two. Slughorn's really not a bad teacher when you give him a chance." She reprimanded them sternly.

Ron scuffed. "Hermione, it's not about Sluggy and his teaching skills." He said through a mouthful of egg. "It's having to spend a whole hour with stupid Slyther-"

Harry coughed loudly and Ron quickly looked up from his sausages to see Hermione's angry stare. When they had decided to come back to Hogwarts for a re-do of their final year, Hermione had made them both promise to stop the foolish house rivalry she had put up with for so many years. Ron sheepishly swallowed and cleared his throat.

"I think Ron means he's not looking forward to having to spend one whole hour stuck in the dark dungeons brewing potions that smell horrible and always give us a headache." Harry chimed in quickly.

Hermione turned a skeptical look his way just as Ron said: "Yeah, that's it! That's what I meant…horrible." He shoved another piece of toast into his mouth while Harry and Hermione looked at him in distaste. "It's enough to put one off ones breakfast, that is." He added after a long swig of pumpkin juice.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, you'd better hurry up…it's almost 8:15." And with one last disgusted look at Ron and his eating habits, she collected her things and left the Great Hall. Harry looked at his watch.

"She's right," Harry mumbled to himself.

"She's always right. It's Hermione."

Harry found no argument in Ron's logic.

* * *

After a mad dash to the Potions lab down in the dungeons, Ron and Harry, their chests heaving, Stepped inside the classroom as quietly as they could. (Which turned out to be not so quiet at all.)

Despite Hermione's warning at breakfast, they were still seven minutes late and it was due to this that Slughorn thought it best to separate them so they might focus better. Ron, luckily, was paired off with 'okay potion maker' Dean Thomas.

Harry, however, was joined to the only other student who was late to his first class of the day, Blaise Zabini. Both boys inwardly groaned and muttered darkly under their breath, but otherwise, acted rather civil to one another…

That is, until it came time to actually make their potion.

Turns out, both of them normally do the cutting and preparing of ingredients while preferring to leave the actual brewing of the potion up to their potions' partners. After many heated, albeit, hushed arguments; they tentatively agreed to share a little of both cutting and brewing. Harry was currently stirring his cauldron clockwise while Zabini cut the Hog-Tail in such a way that Harry was positive he would have done it better. Harry now wished he'd been matched up with anyone else.

Hell, even Draco Malfoy would have been a better option. Sure, Malfoy was a git but at least he always did the brewing without a word…In fact, normally he would just snap at Harry not to mess anything up while cutting, dicing, and squeezing whatever it was that the potion called for, while he, himself, would start the brewing process. It was almost as if he and Malfoy made the perfect pair...you know, when making potions.

But Zabini? No. They were a potions match made in bloody hell.

So lost in his own thoughts, Harry didn't notice that he and Zabini were now crushing up the same kind of bear stone. Blaise, when it finally dawned on him that Potter was no longer stirring their potion, sighed and ruffled his dark hair in frustration before putting out a large hand to stall Potter's progress.

He was so used to Draco's demand to be the brewer that Potter's lack of brewing skills was really throwing Blaise off his game.

Zabini's hand on his arm snapped Harry back to reality so hard that Harry jumped and in a spastic jerk of motion, accidentally cut them both where hand met forearm, managing, in the process, to get the Bear Stone dust, still lingering on his silver knife, to seep in both their wounds and through their bloodstreams.

That had been mistake number one.

"Damn it, Potter! Watch where you swing that thing!" Blaise barked angrily, snatching his hand back quickly and holding it up to the light to ascertain the damage.

"Sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" Harry hastily apologized. He reached out to take the dark hand he'd accidentally maim, not quite sure what he planned to do once he had it, but it didn't matter because Blaise pulled it from his reach.

"M'boy, are you alright?"

Blaise and Harry both looked around them. They're little incident did not go unnoticed by the rest of the class, who, along with Professor Slughorn, had all turned their attention on them.

Blaise opened his mouth to tell his Head-Of-House that he was fine and Potter was just a mad man, when Slughorn spoke again. "Harry, my dear boy that cut looks rather bad…perhaps you should go and see Madam Pomfrey in the-"

"No, sir. It's nothing. Really, I'm fine." Harry said immediately ducking his head to avoid all the staring.

"If you're sure…"

"Yes, I am, sir."

"Oh," Slughorn looked taken aback for a moment before he shook himself and said with a smile, "Well then at least bandage that cut. Blood isn't required for this potion, you know." Then he turned back to the rest of the class, chuckling at his own joke.

Blaise looked sourly down at his own hand. "Fucking loony," He mumbled under his breath.

Harry exhaled slowly. He picked his bag off the floor and began digging through it for some piece of cloth that he could use as a bandage. He had books, his map, extra ink, his cloak…no, he didn't want to get blood on his fathers' cloak.

Finally, he found one of Dudley's huge and bulky old socks that must have been in-between the pages of one of his books again from when they had lay at the bottom of his trunk from the beginning of the year. He pulled it free and cut it down the middle using his silver knife. He handed half over to Zabini. "I really am sorry about that." He repented again. Feeling miserable.

Blaise took the offending sock gingerly. Either Potter had larger, (and wider), feet than even Blaise himself, or he carried someone else's socks in his bag. Both of those options equally disturbed Blaise.

Harry took his half and with very little difficulty, tied it firmly around his left forearm. He looked over to see Zabini struggling to tie his onto his hand with his teeth. "Here, let me help." Harry offered. Taking Zabini's hand in his even while Blaise protested,

"I've  _got it_ , Potter. Besides, your hands are all bloody."

The moment Harry touched the open cut on Zabini's hand, their bloods met and fused together. And this was the second mistake. Because the mixing of their blood, along with the Bear Stone dust that had already been put into their bloodstream, created a bond stringing them tightly together in a magical current known in the eighteen-hundreds' as a 'Born Wish'.

Now, so long as the stone wasn't activated before it ran it's course through their veins and out of their bodies, then the only effect would be the unusual need to be overly friendly when the other person was experiencing a feeling of strong depression.

 _However_ , if the Bear Stone was to be triggered in time, then the magic would seek out the deepest need, (or wish), hidden in the heart, and draw the magic from the other witch or wizard that they were bonded to, in order to make the wishes come true. Never stopping trying to fulfill their deepest wish until it either succeeded or the wish was changed.

Or one of the wizards died. But that rarely ever happened.

So that brings us to the final mistake, mistake number three…

As soon as Harry finished wrapping up Zabini's hand, he looked down at his own and frowned. They weren't _that_  bad. He thought. So he wiped them on his pants and reached for his powdered Bear Stone at the same time as Blaise did. They touched their two separate batches of crushed stone and both turned to glare at one another in a 'don't you  _dare_  add that powder into that potion!' gesture.

"I crushed mine up first, Potter." Zabini growled out.

_The very moment their eyes met,_

"Yeah, but mines a bit fresher. Besides, you've added the last three ingredients, it's my turn." Harry retaliated, a bit childishly.

_The stone was set into motion,_

"Oh, grow up, Potter."

_It would seek, and it would find,_

"Me? Hell, you're the one who can't stir a damn 'Chelidonium Miniscula' potion for five bloody minutes without your hand hurting."

_And it would bring their wish to the surface._

The instant Harry had said those words; he wanted them back as Blaise snarled, "MY hand? You want me to stir that potion…" He glanced down at the potions book lying open to the chapter of their potion on the table. "…eighty-two times, counter-clockwise …" He read off, before lifting chocolate eyes to stare boldly into bright green. "…With my hand like this?!" He finished, raising his bandaged hand in remonstration.

Harry opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. "I said I'm sorry." He murmured moodily. "What more do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. I want you to shut your gate and stir the damn potion."

So Harry did. As well as for the rest of the Potion's class, Harry stirred the potion and let Blaise to all the cutting and dicing without complaint.

* * *

It had been such a relief when their free period had come for afternoon break right after Lunch. Ever since the Potions class that morning, Harry had been feeling odd and slightly sick.

At first, he had chalked this up to his jumpy behavior that had harmed a schoolmate as much as himself. But not long after Charms, Harry started to suspect that this was something else entirely.

After he explained this to Ron and Hermione, shot down Hermione's immediate and predictable 'go to the hospital wing,' and listened to her lecture him for a good three minutes, Ron suggested he go take a lie down in the boys' dormitories until History of Magic. Harry thought this a great idea and had set off for Gryffindor tower, only slightly saddened by the fact that he wouldn't be joining Ron and Hermione out on the grounds in such nice weather.

The moment Harry's head hit the pillow of his four-poster, Harry was sure he'd never been more exhausted in his life. He was asleep in an instant while unbeknownst to him and a certain dark-skinned Blaise Zabini who was across the castle doing the exact same thing on his green four-poster in Slytherin, their magic's were drawing from each other. The bond had found the mark. Their wish would soon come true.

"Harry…Harry, wake up."

Blaise Zabini rolled over in his bed, eyes still shut tight.

"Come on, Harry. We made excuses for you in all our other classes, but Hermione says that even if you are feeling ill, you need to eat  _something_."

Even with his mind still foggy from sleep, Blaise was starting to get the feeling that something was wrong. Then he was hit in the face with a pillow and all thought left his mind except for the fact that his whole body hurt like hell. He groaned. This was the worse hangover he'd ever had. Of that, he was sure. But…had he, in fact,  _had_  anything to drink last night? Everything was just so fuzzy.

There was a sigh. "Sorry, mate, but you have to come down and face the world eventually. Take your time though; I'll save you some dinner, shall I?" Then there was the loud slamming of a door and footsteps leading down the stairs.

Blaise frowned. Down? The 8th years were located at the very bottom of the stairway leading down into the Slytherin dorms. Once again, Blaise found himself thinking that something just wasn't right. "Ugh, what the fuck did you let me drink last night, Draco?" Blaise asked the empty common room. When there was no reply, the Italian wizard puffed up his chest and mental prepared himself to get up. Which he did.

What he hadn't prepared himself for, was all the crimson and gold and scarlet that met his eyes when he opened them. Nor the foggy vision that made it hard to make out anything in detail. "Fuck!" Blaise cried out in surprise, jumping back a little and smacking his head on the bed frame behind him. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," He repeated, trying not to think about how much higher pitched his voice was or how much more hair he had on his head as he rubbing the back of it irritably and squinting to try and see a bit better.

There was the sound of arguing voices growing closer and closer. Blaise heard the same male voice from earlier saying, "Leave 'em be, 'Mione." And, "Come'on, let's just go eat. He'll join us when he is ready."

"I just want to make sure he is okay, Ron." Chimed in a bossy sort of female voice. "Why don't  _you_  go down to dinner and save us seats, and Harry and I will join you when  _we_ are ready."

A mumbled sort of agreement followed this, then the jiggle of a door handle and then,

"Oh good, Harry, you're up."

* * *

**Authors Notes: Now I know what you're thinking, 'Things which are mine' isn't even finished yet! Why am I starting a new story?!**

**But no worries! I don't plan to write anymore of this story until I hear what you guys think. (Well…Okay, I've already written chapter two and started chapter three, but after that, I'll write no more until your say so.)**

**So…what do you think? I've read a lot of 'bodyswap' stories for Drarry but they always switch Draco and Harry and I thought it would be funnier to have Harry and Draco stuck with each other instead of just walking a mile in each others' shoes.**

**I mostly plan to stick to Draco and Harry (if you can't already tell), but I do plan to have some Ron-Hermione and Blaise-Ginny soooooo…if any of these pairings bother you, I'm sorry.**

**Finally, I rushed this chapter…like, a lot, and I'm sorry about that. And…I dun' no how I feel about Blaise. I tend to make him rather 'flirty-mick-flirts-a-lot' because that's just how I see him, but I don't really know if I want him to be flirty here…what are your thoughts?**

**I do hope this story has promise, but like I said, I want to hear what you think before I add this to the 'success' pile and start to write more chapters.**

**Reviews welcome, thanks for reading and I hope to hear from you soon!**

**-KIAD^^**


	2. Potter Stinks and Portal Tails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Look, all I'm saying is, Draco Malfoy really needed a leather jacket.
> 
> Written by: KillerInADress.
> 
> Special thanks to: YoursTruly. The Oreo to my milk!

**Chapter Two: Potter Stinks and Portal Tails.**

* * *

-Last time,-

" _Why don't you go down to dinner and save us seats, and Harry and I will join you when we are ready."_

_A mumbled sort of agreement followed this, then the jiggle of a door handle and then,_

" _Oh good, Harry, you're up."_

-And now...-

* * *

Across the castle, down in the dungeons, past a long, dank hallway, and through a thick, solid door; Harry Potter opened his eyes, and blinked.

Green. Everything was green.

Harry blinked again and turned his head to find that instead of the last bed on left, he was on one of the middle beds. Also, there was no red…or gold. Everything was in green and silver and blacks and whites and the oddest thing, Harry thought as he sat up and shook the fuzzy pain from his head, was that there were no clothes strewn on the floor and no high windows letting in sunlight. It was as if he were sitting in the dungeons in-

It clicked.

"Shite!" Harry whispered breathless. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. He was appalled, confused, shaken, and slightly frightened wrapped up into one big ball of hazy memory.

Cautiously, Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. The moment his feet touched the frozen ground, Harry cursed again. He looked down sharply at the stone floor and saw a pair of black school trousers and two deep blue socks that did not be long to him.

"Okay…" Harry muttered to himself as he looked around the room again. "Okay," He said again when he saw a door and silently debated with himself if it was safe to go out, alone, through Slytherin territory. "Clearly, this is some new Slytherin prank, right? Find and dress the famous 'Harry Potter' up in different clothing. Well, ha, ha, very funny." He rambled out to the empty dorm room as he slowly inched closer and closer to the door. He was going insane. Yes, that must be it.

When he finally reached the door, Harry hesitated. Was it safe?

Before he'd made up his mind, however, the door was thrown open and in walked Draco Malfoy. Harry quickly shoved his hand into his pocket, searching for his wand, when he felt a sharp pain shoot through it.

Gingerly he lifted it up and saw the bandaged wound from this morning, and what's more, underneath the old ripped up sock, was the dark, large hand of none other than Blaise Zabini. Harry yelped.

"What's the matter with you?" Draco Malfoy asked, looking up at Harry as if he were acting strangely. Which was funny seeing as it was Malfoy who was being odd.

"I-I don't-" Harry stopped talking abruptly when he heard, not his voice, but a deep baritone issuing from his own mouth.

"You don't... what?" Draco asked with a mixture of annoyance and worry. "If it's that hand of yours, I keep telling you to go see Pomfrey. Tired or not, she'll have it fixed in…Blaise? Blaise, are you listening to me?"

Harry, eyes wide and breath shallow, managed to stumble out, "Ba—bathroom." Before tearing from the room, feeling sick.

Only, he didn't stop when he ran past an open doorway leading what looked like the common bathroom. He didn't stop when Malfoy called after him. He didn't even pause for a second when Pansy Parkinson had hopped off the black lounge chair she'd been in, and scream out after Harry, asking him what was wrong.

Harry ran and ran until he stood in front of Gryffindor tower, clutching a stitch in his side. The fat lady looked down at him, expectant.

"Po-Port-Portal Tails." He stammered out of breath. The fat lady looked outraged that he knew the password, but still, she swung forward to allow him entry.

Harry's first stop was the boys' bathroom where he hesitated with his eyes shut tight, unwilling to look. "Man up, Potter." He told him self sternly, a deep, rich voice meeting his ears. He opened his eyes.

Blaise Zabini was gazing right back at him from the mirror. Harry closed his eyes again as he half moaned, half whimpered. He had known the moment he saw the hand, but it was still a surprise to actually see him looking back at Harry from the dark brown eyes. Harry moaned again.

He felt sick. He didn't know how this happened, or why, but what he did know was that Blaise Zabini was-

Harry's eyes snapped open. If he was Zabini, maybe Zabini was him!

Harry was both glad, and disappointed that everyone was a dinner. If he wanted to talk to Zabini—er—himself, he'd have to walk right up to Gryffindor table and ask him to come out for a word…a Slytherin asking a Gryffindor to meet them alone in the-yeah, that wouldn't work. Even if Zabini-Uh-Harry-no-Zabini-

 _Even if_ he agreed, Harry knew Ron would come with. There was no way Ron would trust a Slytherin so close to Him-Harry—Harry's body, alone.

Harry went up the stairs and into his dorm room. It was exactly as he remembered before falling asleep.

It was then that he realized he still didn't have shoes on. Sighing, Harry chose to ignore that little problem for now, as the first thing he needed was his school bag which he had left right…ah, there!

Harry quickly dug through its contents, some spilling over the side in his haste to get what he wanted. He invisibility cloak, and the Marauders Map.

Stuffing the Map in his trouser pocket, Harry instinctively reached to push up his glasses. He found only air. Looking at his bedside table where he'd placed them before his nap, he found them missing. He didn't need them, of course. But still, there was something very odd and unnatural about not having them with him.

Pushing this thought away with difficulty, Harry focused on his task. He slipped on his invisibility cloak and snuck back down to the Entrance hall.

* * *

Blaise looked at Weasley with pure disgust.

Weasley, now officially on his third piece of kidney pie, glanced up and saw him staring. "Whut?" He asked through a mouthful.

Blaise pushed his plate away slowly, no longer feeling very hungry. "Must you eat like a pig?" He questioned, revolted.

Weasley frowned. "'m just hungry," He murmured, a bit offended. "It's never bothered you before."

"Well I'm already feeling ill and your shoveling of food is not helping my stomach." He griped. Out of the corner of his eye, what little blurry vision there was of it, Blaise saw Ganger watching him with a calculating look on her face. "What?" He snapped, turning to face her and shoving the glasses up the bridge of his nose for the hundredth time that hour. The ruddy things.

"Are you sure that you're only feeling ill?" She asked after a long moment of staring.

"I've just told you that, haven't I!" He said sharply.

"I know, Harry, but it's just that…well you're acting very…odd."

Blaise blanched. "It's nothing. Just don't feel up to acting myself, is all." He improvised, looking away from her searching eyes and focusing on the Slytherin table across the hall where his real friends sat, talking and laughing. He scowled. He wasn't there and no one even cared…where was his body, anyways? Or Potter, he guesses, since he's in Potter's body, Potter must be in his.

He had better be taking care of it.

…And care meant food! Damn it, where was he?!

* * *

As soon as Harry got the Entrance Hall, his intention to sit under the cloak and wait for the –Zabini- him to come out of the Great Hall where he would kidnap him and demand to know what happened; was put a screeching halt as the smell wafting through the doors met his nose and he's stomach growled approvingly.

He  _could_  just slip down to the kitchens and have them make something for him…but even with the map, by the time he caught back up with the man in his body, he might be surrounded by people again.

Harry sighed. There was nothing for it. He would go in, eat, and watch for Zabini's departure. Thought of delicious food on his mind, Harry slipped off the cloak, stuffed it in his robes, and walked into the Great Hall.

It took him seven steps in to realize he was headed the completely different way. Changing course swiftly, Harry headed over to the Slytherin table and tried his best not to look uncomfortable as Pansy Parkinson shoved a third-year over and left the spot open for him.

Once he was seated, he pretending to listen to Parkinson talk about some famous person or other while he seeked out…himself.

And he found him, sandwiched between Hermione and Neville and giving Ron, seating across from him, a look of loathing.

Harry gave him a hard look which he finally looked up, and noticed. Once they locked eyes, one thought ran through both of their minds at once. 'Now what?'

"Blaise, darling, are you feeling alright?" Parkinson's girly voice seeped through to Harry after a moment or two.

Harry Blinked. "Wha-oh, yeah, I'm just fine." He answered distractedly.

Parkinson only narrowed her eyes.

Once the desserts came around, it occurred to Harry that Zabini might be waiting on  _him_  to leave Great Hall. But before Harry could make up his mind on if he should just walk out and see if Zabini follows, Malfoy wondered in, looking frazzled.

The moment his grey eyes spied Harry, he rushed over with an expression of pure fury. Harry suddenly felt right at home, being on the receiving end of his glare…even if it was more unsettled than murderous.

"I've been looking everywhere for you." He barked once he was within earshot. Glancing to the kid who had moved over for Harry, Draco glared him down and ordered, "Move." Before taking his, suddenly empty, seat. "Blaise, I swear, if you've made me miss the pudding…" He trailed off, eyes lighting up as he glimpsed his treat and hurriedly readied himself some.

Harry was over come with the need to laugh. Instead, he bit his tongue and looked back over at the Gryffindor side where Hermione was talking to Zabini-his body- in a whispered sort of discussion. Look on his face made Harry frown. Did he always look that angry when he was annoyed?

Draco shoved him lightly and Harry flinched. "Don't be so jump, I was only half joking about stringing him up by his pants. Anyways, what was that about earlier? You said something about, 'the restrooms', then you took off... Here," Malfoy put down his spoon and reached under the table to pull free two black, sleek, men's' shoes. "I've got your shoes. You'd left them in our room."

"What, in the name of Salazar, are you doing walking around without shoes?!" Parkinson screeched in alarm. As if this was the biggest crime against humanity since Voldemort.

"Uhh…Thanks," Harry said uncertainly. Taking them from Malfoy, Harry swirled around on the bench and slipped them on. It was weird… having shoes that fit perfect. "I…well I—er-I wasn't feeling well and I wanted some air…" Harry trailed off as he sat up in time to see Hermione and Body-Harry walking to the Great Hall doors. "And I think I need bit more air, now. Excuse me." Harry added, jumping to his feet and following them as fast as he dared.

He thought he heard Parkinson telling Malfoy that Blaise always reties his shoes and never just slips them on, but he didn't really pause to listen.

Once he was out in the Entrance Hall, he looked up and saw them heading over to an unused classroom on the first floor landing so Harry fastened his pace and slipped on the invisibility cloak as he went. Which barely just covered his new, taller, and brawnier state.

When he got to the closed door of the room, he put his ear to the door but couldn't hear a thing. Deciding Hermione must have put a silencing charm up for a good a reason, Harry begun to dig in his pockets until finally, he found Zabini's wand in the front pocket of the left side of his robes.

He took down her charms with ease having spent so much time listening to her place them around campsites and rest zones. Sound now restored, Harry pressed his ear to the door, only to withdraw just as quickly and send an unlocking spell at the door, flinging it open.

"Hermione! Wait! He's not dangerous!" Harry yelled, rushing into the room and throwing his cloak off.

Hermione froze in place.

Harry Potter's body moved away from the wall and ruffled a hand through the dark hair shakily. "Your friend is fucking mental, Potter." Zabini said, turning to look at his own body which Harry had moved into a protective stance between Hermione and Zabini.

"She's not mental," Harry barked at Zabini, glare softening when he turned dark eyes on his best friend. "She's just worried about me, is all."

"Ha-Harry?" Hermione's baffled, slightly frightened voice made Harry wince. He just looked her deep in the eye and withdrew the map. " _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_." The voice of Blaise Zabini's filled the small room even in a whisper as Harry tapped the foreign wand onto the parchment and passed it wordless to Hermione.

Reluctant as she was, Hermione lifted her chin slightly and took the map. In the time it took her to find their spot on the map, Harry had crossed the room and shut the door again, hoping to avoid anymore surprises…like, say, Ron Weasley and his mistrust of Slytherin's who may or may not be his best-friend trapped in one.

Harry knew the moment Hermione found them because she let out a gasp and Zabini's clear curiosity got the better of him as he walked over and leaned in to look.

"How?" Hermione and Blaise asked together.

"How what?" Came Harry's puzzled reply.

"How did this happen?" Hermione elaborated, eyes bright as she looked into the ones Harry knew weren't the green she was searching for.

"How does it do that? Where'd you get it?" Was Zabini's continuation of the question asked in awe.

"I don't know what happened, Hermione, I was kind of hoping you'd know." He said, looking at his own body expectantly.

Blaise blinked. "What? You mean you think I had something to do with… _this_?" He laughed. But he didn't laugh long, as the sound coming from his lower chest was not the deep-bellied laugh he was used to. He cleared his throat. "I was feeling ill and went to rest this afternoon. I haven't done-"

"Wait, you too?" Harry interrupted suddenly.

Blaise was taken aback. "What?"

"This afternoon break, I went up to the dormitory and when I woke up, I was in your body in the dungeons."

"Hmm…" Hermione's sound of thought was music to Harry's ears.

"Do you know something, Hermione?" Harry asked hopefully.

Hermione looked at them both in turn before looking back at the map. "I don't know, Harry." She said, without looking up. This hurt Harry a little…just a little. "But I think we should go to the headmistress."

Harry and Blaise groaned. "Granger, no offence, but I'd rather this not be told to anyone if I can help it."

"What? But Head Mistress -"

"Actually, Hermione, I was kind of hoping you could…you know…go to the library and look it up for me. And in the mean time we'd just lay low. See if it reverses itself."

"Really, Harry-"

"I know. And I promise if goes on for longer than a week or…or gets worse, we'll tell the Headmistress."

Harry's body shifted as Blaise snorted. "How could it get worse?" He mumbled to no one in particular.

"I don't know," Harry bit out tersely, turning narrowed eyes on the Zabini him, "But for right now, I really don't want to be anymore 'out of the ordinary' than I already am, Hermione." Harry pleaded softly. "And if this goes away in a few days and we worried the whole school over nothing I'd…"

Hermione sighed. "Fine, Harry, I'll see what I can dig up. In the mean time, don't draw any attention to yourselves and tell no one… And if it doesn't go away," She left off, looking over at them sternly.

Blaise bristled while Harry smiled. "We promise to tell the Headmistress." He said honestly.

"And what can she find in the library that you or I couldn't?" Blaise asked, looking from one to the other as if they were both mental.

"She's the brightest witch I've ever met." Harry declared while Hermione ducked her head in modesty. "And if she can't find it, no one can."

Blaise looked between them a few times before throwing up his hands. "You're both insane." He muttered to the room at large as though praying for patience. "But what have I to lose? At least this will save me what little dignity I have left."

Harry and Hermione beamed at each other before the oddness of Blaise Zabini's face smiling at her made Hermione drop her eyes. She took out her wand, dispelled the map, and handed it back to Harry. "You keep this." She said lifting her eyes to meet Harry's again. "Use it to find us when we are in the library or somewhere private. Safer than sending owls every time we wish to meet."

Harry nodded. "Yeah… Thanks again, 'Mione. I mean it… You're bloody brilliant."

Hermione smiled. "Well, come on, er-Zabini." She wavered for a moment, then looked at Harry's body with a smaller smile of the one she'd given Zabini's body. "We'd better hurry back to the common room before Ron comes looking."

This reminded Harry of something. "Hermione, you go on outside I want to ask Zabini something." When Hermione obligingly left the room, Harry turned to himself and gave Zabini an encouraging nod. "The password to our common room is 'Portal Tails'. What's yours?"

"What's-Oh, yes, right… Our password is Pot-…"Blaise shook his head and tried again. "It's 'Potter stinks'."

Harry laughed, and the deep belly sound dazed him and made Blaise long for his own body again. "Of course it would be. Let me guess who picked it out,"

"Stuff it, you prick. Not  _everyone_  is obsessed with you."

"No, but I bet-cha anything that Malfoy is." Although Harry meant this as a joke, Blaise suddenly became very nervous. "What? Is he really obsessed with me?" Harry asked in astonishment.

"No, you dope." Was Blaise's automatic response. "But, he is my best friend…just…don't let him know it's…well, that it's you in there. I'd really like my body back in one piece." He finished, a little defensively.

Harry understood. "I know the feeling." He sighed. "I promise to try and be as…nice to Malfoy as I can." And the clenched teeth aside, Harry meant every word.

Blaise nodded.

* * *

By the time Harry finally found that stretch of wall marking the Slytherin common room. (Even with the map, he'd walk by it three times); Harry was tired and quite ready for this day to be over. Harry spoke the password, chuckling softly as he did so, and pushed his way into the common room.

At once, he was reminded of his second year when he and Ron had disguised themselves as Malfoy's cronies in order to get information about the Chamber out of Malfoy. If Harry tried not to think to hard about it, he could almost pretend that he was in disguise now, and the potion would wear off in an hour or he'd wake up and find that this was all some hokum dream.

At least, he hoped it was.

"Zabini!" Came a shout from the stairway leading down deeper into the dungeons where Harry now knew lead to the dorms.

Harry whipped his head around to see Malfoy clear the last step and stand, arms crossed tightly against his chest and a scowl that made Harry think, if just for a moment, that Malfoy knew who he really was. "What?" Harry tried to ask as politely as he could.

This only made Malfoy's scowl deepen. "You bloody blew me off, you snarky bastard!" He snapped, swaggering over to where Harry was standing, rooted to the spot and desperately trying to think of what he should do.

"Well, uh…I'm sorry?" Harry tried.

"Sorry? You're sorry that I was left out waiting for you in the freezing cold by myself? I could've caught my bloody death!" Malfoy's voice kept rising as he glanced around the room. Harry was starting to get the feeling that whatever this was; Malfoy was putting on some kind of show.

Harry coughed. "Look, I'm really sorry, but I forgot." Harry said while trying his best to act as if this was Ron or Hermione upset that he had skipped out on something.

Malfoy gave a Harry a very calculating look that made Harry swallow hard. Finally, Malfoy nodded. "Fine. If you're really sorry, then you'll have no problem going over my Transfiguration homework." And before Harry knew what was happening, he was being shoved out of the very wall entrance he'd just spend the better part of half and hour finding.

Out in the dark, cold hallway, Malfoy tightened his hold on Harry's new arm painfully as he pulled him through the halls, seemingly at random. Harry had just opened his mouth to ask where the hell they were going when he found himself being roughly pushed through a false wall and into a hidden alcove.

Malfoy step through seconds after, wand drawn.

Harry gulp. "Uh…Malfoy?"

"Who are you?" Malfoy's tone was bordering on dangerous and Harry instinctively reached for the wand poking out his back pocket. The movement did not go unnoticed by Malfoy. "Oh no, you don't! Accio wand!"

"What the fuck is your problem-"

"Who  _are_  you?" Malfoy repeated again, Blaise Zabini's wand safely in his other hand. "And don't even think about lying to me! I placed a truth charm on you the moment you said you 'forgot' about a meeting we never had. I would not stand around waiting for someone, no matter how close we were.  _Blaise Zabini_  would have known that and told me to get over myself and stop being so dramatic."

Harry wanted very much to turn around and bang his head against the wall behind him. Hard.

And he might have if Malfoy's wand weren't point right over his heart. Instead, Harry settled for taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, trying to clam down his racing pulse. "Right," He said eventually, deciding to just 'wing it'. "Next time, I'll just tell you to 'shunt off', shall I? But for now, I've got a raging headache and I really would like nothing better than to-"

Malfoy's fist made contact with Harry's overly large nose and Harry yowled in pain and double over. "Don't be such a smart arse and just answer my fucking question!"

"Fine!" Harry pulled himself upright and wiped his nose with his black robe sleeve. Malfoy flinched. "I tried to be fucking nice to you for Zabini's sake but enough is enough. Malfoy, give me back my bloody wand or I'll-"

"Where is Blaise? What have you done with him you fucking imposter?!"

"I haven't done anything with him! We both got-"

"DON'T LIE, YOU-"

"I'm NOT lying to you, you stupid git! You put a truth charm on me, remember?!"

"Then who, the fuck, are you?!"

"I'm bloody Harry Potter!"

Malfoy froze. "Wh-what?" He whispered, wide-eyed.

"My name is Harry Potter!" Blaise Zabini's booming voice spoke again, as Harry was now eyeing Draco Malfoy's wand with alarm when it was pressed right up against him in Malfoy's shock. "And I can prove it,"

Shaking himself free of his baffled state, Malfoy gave a cruel, harsh laugh. "You _actually_  expect me to believe that you are THE Harry Potter?"

Harry sighed heavily. "Look, I'll… I'll prove it." He pleaded, lifting up his arms in surrender and praying to anyone who listen, that Malfoy wouldn't jinx him on the spot, just because it was Harry. "Just lower your wand and we'll talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Chapter two!
> 
> Okay, I'm sorry, but did anyone else feel like it dragged a little? *sad face* I'm sorry about that. I've been a little slumped when it comes to writing lately.
> 
> Anyways! Hope you like it! Review and let me know your thoughts, yeah?
> 
> I've started chapter three but it all depends on if you. Let me know your thoughts.
> 
> Also, 'things which are mine' will be updated very soon so keep an eye out! Thanks everyone! –KIAD ^^


	3. Roomies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. However, the sugar-high at 3am that influenced this chapter was, (most unfortunately), completely, 100%, mine.
> 
> Written by: KillerInADress.
> 
> Special thanks to: YoursTruly.

**Chapter Three: Roomies.**

* * *

-Last time,-

_"Look, I'll… I'll prove it." He pleaded, lifting up his arms in surrender and praying to anyone who listen, that Malfoy wouldn't jinx him on the spot, just because it was Harry. "Just lower your wand and we'll talk."_

-And now...-

* * *

Draco Malfoy did not lower his wand.

If anything, he pressed it closer to the dark boy pretending to be his best friend. "Do you  _really_  think I'm that stupid?" He demanded, a little edgily.

As tempted as Harry was to say ' **YES',**  He luckily held his tongue. Instead, he answered as calmly as he could manage with Malfoy's nervous wand twitching around his midriff. "Okay, look, I still have my map in my right pocket-"

"A map?" Malfoy interjected incredulously. "What goods' a map going to do you when-"

"If you'll shut up for a moment, I'll tell you." Harry shot back, reclaiming the flow of conversation.

When Malfoy continued to look tetchy but unexpectedly kept his mouth locked in a tight, thin line; Harry went on. "It's a map of Hogwarts. It shows everyone inside the school grounds no matter how they try to disguise themselves. With it, I'll prove to you that I'm Harry Potter, but one of us is going to have to retrieve it and I'd rather  **not**  have your hands down my trousers, if you don't mind."

Despite himself, Draco felt a blush creeping up the back of his neck. Clearing his throat, Draco waited a heartbeat before he moved back enough for the imposter to reach his pocket. Wand still pointing at the chest of this ' _Harry Potter_ ', Malfoy glared. "Very well, but only go for your right pocket. Try anything else and I'll hex you faster than-"

"Faster than I can say 'Nimbus'. I got it." The body of Blaise Zabini finished for him, already fishing around in his pocket and looking bad-tempered.

Draco frowned. "Whatever. Just remember that I have your wand, imposter."

"As much as I love the nick-name, Malfoy, don't you think you could be a little more creative?" Harry baited, finally locating the folded up map.

Draco's frown darkened as he grudgingly accepted that this fake Blaise certainly seemed to be just as big an arse as Potter was, when the taller man in front of him pulled free a yellowing, extremely worn piece of parchment. "That's it?" Draco asked with one eyebrow raised. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't a crummy old sheet of paper, that's for sure.

However, fake Blaise ignored him, suddenly looking worried. He bit his lower lip. "Er…I need the wand back to activate it."

Malfoy laughed. "You sure do play a better Potter than I gave you credit for, but not even Potter would be foolish enough to think that I would-oomph! " Malfoy's hands flew up to catch the map that Harry shoved into his chest with a lot more force than was really necessary, making Malfoy stumble back a few steps with the power of it.

"Fine, you work it." Harry huffed. "Touch your wand to the map and repeat after me: ' _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'._ "

Malfoy drew himself up and glared his full at Harry, but nonetheless, touched wand tip to square parchment. " _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_ ," He mimicked. For a single second, Draco was positive that the imposter was just having him on. But then that moment was gone, and Draco stared, wide-eyed as the battered page was suddenly filled with black lines spreading out from where his wand touched it. Faster and faster the lines spread and filled until, words formed. The map inventors named themselves before each name faded and Malfoy blinked.

He was looking at the whole of the Hogwarts grounds and school. Little labeled black dots walked back and forth from the part of the map that was open to him. Quickly, Draco pulled open the flaps of the parchment and his grey eyes scanned the whole of the map. "Well…this answers a great many questions." He mumbled, watching in amazement as Peeves, the poltergeist, sat waiting on the third floor for a group of students to walk past him on their way back from the library.

A cough sounded, shaking Draco free from his slightly dazed state. He lifted his eyes to find that the imposter had moved closer to him and was now pointing over to the left of the map where the dungeons were. Draco's gaze traveled over to the spot where two dots stood. One label read

|Draco Malfoy| 

While the other one read,

|Harry Potter| 

Draco blanched. Potter removed his finger and placed it on another part of the map marked 'Gryffindor Tower'. "And…there, that one is Zabini."

Draco looked. Sitting right next to a dot marked |Hermione Granger| was |Blaise Zabini|.

Potter had withdrawn his finger again, but still, Draco couldn't stop staring. Not until the dots marked, |Ronald Weasley| and |Ginevra Weasley| walked over to them.

"How is it that-how did you—I mean…what happened?"

Harry would have been pleased to hear Draco Malfoy stumbling over his words if it weren't for the odd feelings he was having at watching his friends standing beside Zabini while Harry was down in the cold dungeons showing Malfoy the map that he had used to track Malfoy from afar so often in the past.

"We don't know." He answered after what seemed a long time. Malfoy's cool eyes snapped to his. Searching. "So far, all we know is Zabini and I both fell asleep right after the start of afternoon break, and when we woke up, we were…well…" Harry trailed off, the rest of his explanation seemed self explanatory.

Draco nodded. "I thought you seemed odd," He muttered more to himself. "But I never would have…" But his voice also faded as he observed the black dot of his friend sandwiched between two of the Gryffindor trio with interest.

Harry followed his gaze and watched the dots as well. Strange as it was to see those names side by side near where Harry knew the fire in the common room was, it was even stranger to watch Ginny's dot over lap Zabini's. Harry couldn't quite suppress his groan. Ginny must have just tried to sit on the lap of Harry's body like she loved to do without knowing that it wasn't actually Harry.

Venturing a peek up at Malfoy to see if he had noticed, Harry had to raise a hand up to stifle his laughter. The look of utter horror on Draco Malfoy's face was priceless.

* * *

Blaise was in hell.

There was simply no other explanation for why both of the Weasley siblings seem to feel the uncontrollable need to invade into his fucking  _personal space_.

It wasn't so bad when Weasley kept leaning over him to hand over things to Granger, or to accept his, now correct, homework. Blaise could live with that. But then 'the Weaselette' actually tried to climb into Blaise's lap and Blaise, too stunned to react, had actually let it happen!

Thankfully, Granger had chosen that moment to look up, (likely planning to comment on Weasley's horrible studying habits again), when she saw the scene unfolding before her. Perhaps she took pity on the utterly baffled Blaise Zabini…Or maybe she was concerned that if Blaise tensed his shoulders anymore than he already had, Harry Potter's body would suffer lasting damage.

Whatever her reasons were, Blaise silently indebted himself to her for the kindness she had shown by calling the redheaded girl over to look at something across the room and far away from the lap of Potter's borrowed body.

As if that hadn't been bad enough, Ron Weasley had actually clapped him on the shoulder, looked uncomfortable for a moment, then seemed to throw caution to the wind as he flung himself at Blaise, hugging tightly and whispering some nonsense about Harry being the best brother-in-law he could ever wish for before releasing Blaise as quickly as if he'd been burn.

Blaise had stared at the red, but smiling face of Weasley for a full minute before Weasley sent him a thumbs up, and Blaise lost it. Jumping up from the couch, Blaise headed for the portrait hole, completely intent on going to the Slytherin common room and demanding Potter tell his friends and girlfriend to stay the fuck away from him.

"Hey, Harry, what's up? Where'ya' going?" Blaise grumbled darkly when he realized Weasley was clearly planning to follow him out.

"Forgot something…Library…be back soon." Blaise answered distractedly, trying to find a way around the group of third years who had pause to gawk at him, blocking his path.

"Harry, Ron, where are you going?" Granger had noticed, coming right up to where the younger students had stopped Blaise from making his escape. "We haven't finished the potions essay and it's nearing curfew."

"Harry says he left something in the Library." Weasley answered brightly. "We were just going to go get it." Then, Weasley winked at Blaise, as if this had been some plan they had just cooked up to dodge anymore essay work.

Blaise glared at the weasel. "No,  _ **I**_  was just going to get it." He sniped. Feeling oddly aggravated that Potter's body was shorter than Weasley's. It had been a while since he'd had to look up at someone, and Blaise didn't like it.

Weasley frowned. "Are you still feeling ill, Harry?" He asked in concern.

Granger, too, was looking at him with trepidation. "Harry,  _has_  this anything to do with…with your illness?"

"What? No. It's just…I left something. That's all." Blaise said in a clipped tone. "God, why so much drama over a stupid little trip to the Library? I can retrieve it on my own. It's not like I need you to hold my hand or something."

Ron tried to exchange a look with his girlfriend, but Hermione wasn't taking her eyes off Harry. "Are you sure, Harry?" She pressed. "I mean, if it's about your illness, I think its better if I were to-"

Blaise growled low in the back of his throat, making Granger cut herself off in case she'd said too much.

Ron's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" He demanded in a low tone, dragging Harry's body off to the side so that fewer housemates were likely to notice them. "Who the bloody hell are you, because you aren't Harry." He added. Wand suddenly in his hand and pointing Zabini's nose.

"Oh,  _honestly_ , Ron… _put that down_." Hermione whispered furiously, putting a hand atop of Ron's to stall any curses he might be tempted to use.

"Who is he?" Ron rounded on Hermione. "Because I wouldn't believe that…" He shoved his wand in Zabini's direction again. " _That,_  was Harry Potter, my best mate. Not even if we were living in between Merlin's arsecheeks!"

Hermione's face screwed up into a look of disgust. "Thanks for the visual, Ron."

Ron didn't back down. "Hermione, who  _is_  he?"

"Ron,  _please_  calm down. This is Blaise Zabini-"

"A SLYTHERIN?!" Ron roared, Wand back to pointing at the face of Harry Potter. "You let a  _Slytherin_  into the common room?! Hermione, are you  _mental_?! You didn't tell him the password at least, right?"

'Not Harry' Moved closer to Hermione. "Granger, can we maybe continue this elsewhere? I don't particularly like the audience we've picked up."

Hermione and Ron both took notice of all their housemates, who were watching them fixedly, clearly amazed to see Ron Weasley pointing his wand at his best friend Harry Potter in the middle of the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione sighed heavily and closed her eyes briefly as she was already positive that whatever rumors were spreading tomorrow would not please the real Harry. "Yes, you're right. This is no place for such a conversation." She grabbed Ron's shirt before he could protest, and started pulling him with her as she stalked over to the staircase and up to the 8th years' boys' dorm.

When the two boys were in the room, Hermione turned to shut the door but paused when she found Ginny standing in the way.

"Go away, Gin." Ron barked at her, wand never leaving 'Not Harry's' face. "I don't want you to see this."

"I want to know what happened." Ginny insisted. "If something's happened to Harry, I want to know about it."

"Ginny, you-"

"I think she should hear this, too." Hermione cut in, her auburn gaze on Zabini. "We owe her that much."

Blaise mulled this over in his head, adding two more people in on the secret was a blow to his pride, but it would also mean less lap full's' of redheads. So he nodded.

* * *

Harry looked around the Slytherin dorm room for the second time that day. Yep. Everything was still green.

"Here," Malfoy said, opening a trunk at the foot of the third bed on the right and digging through it's contents until he finally pulled free a pair a green sleep pants. "This is your-well, Blaise's bed. And unlike the rest of us, Blaise prefers to keep his stuff under lock and key so anything you need will be in this trunk." He held out the pants.

"Thanks, Malfoy." Harry said, taking the pants and offering Malfoy the smallest of smiles.

Malfoy frowned. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Calling me Malfoy. Blaise is my best friend; he only calls me Malfoy when he's upset with me."

"Oh," Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Then…what should I call you?"

Malfoy gave Harry the same withering look he had when Harry had laughed at the face he'd made when Ginny's dot had overlapped Zabini's. "I  _have_ a name, Potter." He snapped.

"I know that, Malfoy. I'm not an idiot." Malfoy snorted. Harry scowled. "I just didn't know if Zabini called you by a nick-name or something…I mean, you do seem so very fond of them, calling me 'imposter' and all."

Harry had to dodge the hex thrown his way, but the jab at Malfoy had been well worth it. Especially since he'd punched Harry for a second time after Harry had made a comment about Zabini fitting in so well with the Gryffindor's.

All in all, Malfoy had taken the news that his best friend had switched bodies with his archrival, rather spectacularly. Harry had been impressed.

Unfortunately, Harry soon realized Malfoy saw this as an opportunity to torture Harry as much as he wished without Harry being able to defend himself. He needed Malfoy to keep quiet about the body swap in case it switched them back in a couple days. And Malfoy's silence came at the price of Harry not hurting a single hair on Malfoy's head.

"Just call me Draco. Shouldn't be too hard for you to remember that, just two little syllables: Dray-co… Come on, Potter, say it with me. Dray-co."

Harry sent Malfoy a filthy look.

Malfoy smirked and walked over the large wardrobe near the last bed on the left, which, judging by the items on the bedside table, the four-poster in the corner was Malfoy's bed. "Now listen, Potter, my-I mean, our roommates will be down any moment. Try not to embarrass yourself." He opened the top drawer, took out a set of pajamas for himself, and turned back to flash a sneer at Harry. "Bathroom is three doors up. I would wait at least another fifteen minutes before you go in there, though. Greg always has his shower around this time."

Harry shivered and tried hard not to think about sharing a common shower with Gregory Goyle. "Where are you going, then?" Harry asked, eyeing the shower bag Malfoy had just claimed from his own trunk. Malfoy straightened and sent Harry a very dashing smile.

No, it was a smirk... Harry shook his head, clearing his odd thoughts.

"Prefects' bathroom." Malfoy replied, already halfway to the doorway leading out to the hallway. "Don't wait up."

"Hold it! You're just leaving me here? Alone?"

Slowly, Malfoy turned his head, giving Harry a self-satisfied look that put Harry's teeth on edge. "My, my, Potter…not scared of a few Slytherin's, are you?"

Harry grumbled protests under his breath.

"What was that? You know, you really shouldn't mumble, Potty. It makes you sound less intelligent and you certainly don't need any more help in that department."

Glaring as hard as he could, Harry raised his voice to a growling level. "Shut it, Malfoy. You really aren't one to be judging me on intelligences when you didn't even trust your own truth charm."

Malfoy turned all the way around, facing Harry. The trademark smirk widening and stopping Harry's smug feeling in its tracks. "Oh, that…" Malfoy drawled. "I never actually put a truth spell on you; I just said that so you wouldn't try to lie. Worked marvelously, don't you think?" And with that, Malfoy spun on his heel and left the room in an air of elation.

Harry gapped at the empty doorway for a long moment after Malfoy's departure. One clear thought circling his jumbled mind.

That…that  _Slytherin_!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Hey there!
> 
> Well…chapter three here just kind of… wrote itself. I had no intention of writing this chapter out until I returned from my trip but inspiration struck and I ended up writing out the whole thing in a notebook I borrowed at work.
> 
> Although, I am sorry to say that cut out half of it because I decided I wanted to change the way I had originally wrote out Ginny. (Which was about three pages long and consisted of her talking Blaise's ear off, thinking he is Harry, and Blaise finally snapping at her to hush up or leave him to study.) It actually turned out really, really cute…but I cut it in hopes of adding it later when Blaise likes her more.
> 
> Forgive me? I am sorry that because I cut it, the chapter ended up really short…hope you'll forgive me for that, too.
> 
> Anyways, glad you have enjoyed the first two chapters and if you're still liking this story, let me know so that I know I can write more of it! ^^
> 
> Great to hear from all of you and BookAddict67, Never apologize for wanting to know what happens next. If you ask for it, I shall write it!...or something like that.
> 
> So, reviews welcome! Thanks for reading.
> 
> -KIAD


	4. Wands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Kidnapping little boys with lightening shaped scars is illegal and, apparently, looked down upon in most societies…
> 
> Who knew?
> 
> Written by: KillerInADress.
> 
> Special thanks to: YoursTruly.

**Chapter Four: Wands.**

* * *

-Last time,-

_Blaise mulled this over in his head, adding two more people in on the secret was a blow to his pride, but it would also mean less lap full's' of redheads. So he nodded._

-And now...-

* * *

"…Are you  _really_  Blaise Zabini?" Ron Weasley asked for the sixth time that night, turning his head to gaze with unnerving scrutiny at the form of Harry Potter sitting on the bed right next to his in the otherwise empty dorm room.

Harry Potter's body slumped further into the pillows as Blaise let out a deep, weary sigh. "The answer hasn't changed since you asked me that two minute ago."

"Oh," Ron said. Blaise found himself stretched thin on patience. After Hermione and Blaise had finished explaining everything they knew about what had happened, and Granger had testified to having seen Harry's and Blaise's names on the map, both in the wrong bodies, it had still taken a little extra effort to get Weasley to finally grudgingly except the answer for now, but only with the promise of finding Harry and getting a look at the map himself tomorrow.

Since the moment the girls had left, Ron Weasley had been stuck in some sort of conversational loop and Blaise was one more, 'but why you?' away from losing his temper.

Speaking of which…

"But why you, though?" Blaise put his hands over his face, a growl rumbling deep in his throat. Ron ignored him. "I mean… if you really haven't been planning anything like you say, then why would you be in Harry's body? It just doesn't make sense."

Blaise took in a deep breath. "I've already enlightened you with everything I know. Trust me, if it had been up to me, the body I'd switch with wouldn't have been some scrawny, short Gryffindor with horrible eyesight." Just to make his point, Blaise gave a rough shove to the glasses that were knocked askew by his hands. Once righted, Blaise turned Harry's bright green eyes upon Weasley. The latter looking almost insulted on his best friends' behalf before snapping his fingers as if he'd just solved a particularly hard puzzle.

"I've got it! Polyjui-"

"It was not  _polyjuice potion_!" The Slytherin snapped.

Ron recoiled slightly, the coldness in Harry's voice reminding him painfully of fourth year. "I was just sprouting ideas," Ron grumbled in defense. "No need to bite my head off."

Blaise felt the like sighing again.

"But what if it is Polyjuice? I mean, someone could have slipped some into your cup while you were-"

"Come  _on_ , Weasley! I didn't know you were  _this thick_."

The redhead narrowed his eyes. "I was just—"

Blaise exhaled hard. "Weasley," He started as calmly as he could manage. "First, if it was polyjuice, it would have worn off by now. Second," Turning and sitting up so was facing the Gryffindor, Blaise continued, warming to his theme as he recalled all the useless potion facts Draco was always telling the dark-skinned man. "You can't just hide the taste of the potion in a simple drink like some kind of Veritaserum."

Ron shuddered in disgust, vividly recalling the flavor from the, thankfully few, times he'd taken it. "Yeah," He mumbled. "You've got a point there."

"Of course I do. And even if they had Polyjuiced me, they also had to Polyjuice Potter for us to have switched bodies. So unless you've seen someone suspiciously slipping potions into Potter's drinks often, I think it's highly unlikely it's any other kind of potion, either. "

Weasley sat in silence for so long; Blaise was seriously starting to wonder if Potter did get drugged with potions every day when Ron finally voiced his thoughts. "It's weird."

"Here we go again," Blaise uttered under his breath before bracing himself for another round of 'but why you?' as he spoke up, "I know it's weird, but I honestly don't know how we switched bodies, and I'm no closer to switching us back."

"No, not that." Weasley said, waving away Blaise's words as if he hadn't just spent the better part of their talking asking him the same questions over and over.

Blaise frowned. "Then what is so weird?"

"Weasley," Ron met the eyes of his best friends' borrowed body, crystal blue looking into confused green jewels. "Harry's never called me Weasley before."

Oh.

"Oh," Feeling at a loss, Blaise silently weighed his options. He was in Potter's body and Potter was friends with the redheads for some reason or other. He couldn't just go around calling Weasley…well…Weasley. Not in front of other students. Potter had promised to try not to draw attention to himself and Blaise felt he should certainly give it his best as well. Blaise cleared his throat. "Right, well…I'm sorry about that, uhm, Ron."

For a full minute, Ron and Blaise refused to look at each other as an odd mix of emotions ran through both of them. Then, Neville walked in and was a welcome distraction as he started getting ready for bed.

Suddenly, Ron let out a low groan.

"What's up, Ron?" Longbottom asked from across the room.

Instead of replying, he dropped his head into his hands and said despairingly, his voice muffled, "My sister sat on the lap of a bloody Slytherin. Merlin, someone obliviate me when this is all over."

Blaise, despite the light blush rising to his cheeks from the memory of the girl clambering into his lap as if she belonged there, felt a smirk grace his borrowed lips. Instead of commenting on Weas-Ron's misery, the Slytherin put his Slytherin nature to tease aside and leaned back down into the pillows of Potter's bed. It was going to be a long, long night.

* * *

Harry could already feel the memories of his dream slipping from him by the time he got up the courage to open his eyes. Gazing at the dark green hangings through unfamiliar dark eyes, Harry wrinkled his nose and tried not to think to hard about the missing comfortable weight from the glasses his temporary body didn't need.

Of course, Harry had known it hadn't all been some weird dream even before he'd opened his eyes. He'd tried to believe the ridiculously loud snoring from two beds over was just Ron. Or that the leaking water from the Black Lake was just a heavy rain hitting the windows of the high tower. Or even that the strange feeling of hearing people on either side of him instead of just on one side, was because he'd accidently fallen asleep on Dean's bed again after a night of trying out a few new tricks sent from George. But alas, no amount of convincing had been able to account for the lack of untamable curly hair that should have been tickling his face, or the unmistakable voices of Draco Malfoy and Theodor Nott discussing  _shirts_  of all things. That, and the fact that his right hand was still throbbing painfully left Harry with no doubt left.

This was his reality.

Damn.

Belatedly, Harry lifted up the dark hand that was currently his, inspecting it before releasing a sigh. He really wishes now that he'd asked Hermione to heal it yesterday, like she had with the forearm of his real body.

" _Huh_ ," Dark brows drawing together, Harry took a closer look at his hand. For a fraction of a second, Harry was sure he'd seen some strange flame spark from the wound, almost luminously. But there was nothing. Just a dirty old sock around a relativity shallow cut.

Vowing to find Hermione later and have her mend it for him, Harry pushed all thoughts of strange flaming wounds aside for now and forced himself to sit up and face the day of a Slytherin.

The body of Blaise Zabini winced from both the wording in Harry head, and the sharp cold air that assaulted any and every part of his body that left the warm safety of his bed covers.

"Fuck, it's freezing in here." Throwing open his bed hangings, Harry found two of his fellow bed mates staring at him. Unnerved, Harry crawled out from the warmth of his bed and gave them a cautious smile. "Morning?" He offered.

Draco tried to hold in his incredibly undignified snort.

He failed.

Theodore shot an amused glance at Draco before he turned back to Blaise, "That it is, and would you just look at the time? You've already missed breakfast."

"What?!" Harry spun around; eyes searching frantically for a clock of some kind but meeting an empty bedside table say for a photo of a very beautiful woman dressed entirely in black.

Behind him sounded the stifled chuckle of Nott and the very open laughter of Malfoy. Turning back to face them, Harry sent them a glare that could rival the room temperature as he went to the end of Blaise's bed and the trunk that lay there.

"Now there is the Blaise we all know and can barely tolerate." Nott said, humor still lacing his voice as he turned back to the shirts piled by up by the large mirror that Harry guesses is what that conversation he overheard earlier was all about.

Focusing on the trunk, Harry frowned. There was no way to open it that Harry could see. Slowly, He held out one of Blaise's large hands and ran it softly over the wood, searching for a hidden catch. To the Gryffindor's surprise, the trunk lid lifted open at his touch and as Harry gazed inside, he's eyes widened. The trunk was obviously magical; Shelves layered themselves in front of his eyes, each one holding a set of expensive, if not comfortable pair of nightwear. Harry's eyes instantly found the corner box of the fourth shelf that held the matching shirt to the green sleep pants Harry was currently wearing.

After taking in his full of the neat, organized rows of clothing, a shiver ran deep through the very spine of Blaise's body, reminding Harry that he needed proper clothes. But…there were only Pajamas' here. Where were the rest of Zabini's things?

Another snort sounded behind Harry and he turned his head to see Malfoy watching him in the reflection of the mirror as Malfoy straightened out his fancy looking sweater. Harry blinked and looked around, but Theodore Nott was nowhere to be seen. "Are you having a bit of trouble working your shelves today,  _Blaise_ , darling?"

Harry narrowed his dark eyes. "Not at all,  _Draco~_ , dear." Harry replied in the same sickly sweet tone, drawing out Malfoy's name for added effect.

For a fraction of a second, smaller than the time it took to lose sight of the golden snitch on a foggy, stormy day, Malfoy looked both surprised, and grudgingly impressed.

It was gone the very next moment. But Harry had seen.

Feeling pleased with himself, Blaise's head returned attention to the magical storage system as Harry scanned the entire trunks' surface, looking for some kind of lever or knob. To his delight, it didn't take long before he located the roller disk that was hidden right behind where the lid connected with the rest of the chest. Giving it an experimental turn, Harry watched in amazement as the shelves slid down into the body of the trunk, replaced with another set of shelves. These shelved books and books but none of them had titles that Harry recognized. Finding a label stuck to the top right corner of the top shelf, Harry realized this was Zabini's personal book collection. It was impressive, even to someone with Hermione Granger as a best friend.

Harry turned the roller again and was met with a set of shelves labeled: "Pranks."

He eyed the content warily even as he turned the roller for a third time. Some of those brands looked especially dangerous.

He flipped through shelf after shelf until he finally found one marked: "School Clothes."

Success!

"Not bad, Potter."

Malfoy's sudden presence behind Harry, mixed with his hot breath in Harry's ear made Harry jump. Malfoy pulled away, smirking and Harry glowered. "No thanks to you. Really helpful, you are."

Malfoy shrugged. "You didn't ask." He said as though it should have been obvious. Casting a quick glance around the room to make sure they really were alone, Harry stood and turned to Malfoy.

"Would it have mattered if I had?" Harry challenged, a shiver running down his spine again as Malfoy's body heat, (which had warmed Harry's bare back), was suddenly taken away.

Another smirk was Harry only answer as Malfoy threw a royal blue sweater at him. "Here, I got this out for you earlier. Blaise always wears blue on Thursdays…I think he's trying to impress that Ravenclaw in Ancient Runes." Sneering slightly at that, Malfoy turned back to the wardrobe for his tie and shoes.

Harry glanced down at the pullover in his hands, taken aback. "Oh, uh…thanks." Harry said, a bit unsure as he looked back over at Malfoy, who was fixing his green and silver tie.

Grey eyes lifting to meet chocolate brown in the mirror reflection, Draco gave a half smirk, half sneer. "No need to thank me, Potty, I simply don't trust you to have any dress sense considering what you wear on a daily basis, and I can't have you bringing down Blaise's image the first day, can I?"

Finished with his tie, Malfoy dropped his eyes and bent to put on his handsome dragonhide boots.

Blaise's face was drawn down into a frown. "But…all you gave me was a shirt?" Harry wondered aloud, eyes once more on the silky garment in his large hands.

Throwing out a sigh as heavy as if he were explaining something very complicated to a foolish child, Malfoy said, eyes still on his task of tying boots. "It's a school day, Potter. The school code requires certain attire for the school hours and the only thing that matters is the jumper that will be on display when you aren't wearing your school robes. Do try to keep up, won't you?"

"Right, okay then." Harry said, putting the pullover on the dark wood of the footboard of his four-poster as he returned to the trunk. Pulling free the crisp, white school shirt and a sleek pair of black trousers from the middle left shelf marked: "Thursday's", Harry turned the roller.

Making a noise of disbelief, he looked over at the Blonde. "Who needs this many shoes?" Harry asked, incredulously.

Malfoy sputtered, looking absolutely offended. "Where  _did_ you grow up, Potter? A gnome reserve?"

"A gnome…what?"

Closing his eyes in what looked like a prayer for tolerance; Malfoy shook his head and said jadedly, "Black ones, Scarhead. Any black ones will do, even you can't possibly mess that up."

Harry looked back at the shelves. Over half of the shoes within in them were black.

Picking the ones that looked the comfiest; Harry pulled them free of their shelf just as Malfoy put a hand out to stop him. "I take it back," He said, plucking the shoes from Blaise's dark hand and replacing them in their shelf. "Only you would be able to find the only unacceptable pair of black shoes Blaise ever had the misfortune of owning."

"What was wrong with them?" Harry demanded, bewildered. "They seemed fine to me."

The look Malfoy tossed Harry's way was pure icy. Pulling free a pair of Italian loafers, Malfoy shoved them hard into Blaise's gut, knocking the wind out of the Gryffindor currently stuck inside. "Wear these. I'll meet you at breakfast…I trust you can find your way without an escort, seeing as you have that trusty map of yours." Then Malfoy grabbed his book bag and left without as much as a backward glance.

"What the hell did I do now?" Harry pondered into the empty dorm room he found himself in. Looking back at the shoes he'd originally chosen and still seeing nothing wrong with them, Harry heaved a sigh and retrieved Blaise's wand so he could cast a Tempus Tellus.

The lustrous numbers suspend inside a misty sphere told him that he didn't have time for a proper shower if he wanted to make it to breakfast. Grumpily, Harry dispelled the charm and gathered his things for a rushed shower. If he used the passage behind "Samson the Noble", he might just make it before all the toast was gone.

* * *

In the far back row of Transfiguration, Blaise Zabini was swearing passionately under his breath.

"What's the matter?" Hermione Granger whispered to her friends' body after checking to make sure no one was paying them much mind.

"This stupid spell isn't working." Harry Potter's voice replied as Blaise, once again, gave Harry's wand a harsh swirling motion.

"What's wrong with it? You seem to have the correct movement…are you sure you've got the saying right? It can be tricky; 'Lessa,' might easily be misspoken as 'Lessua'."

Blaise scowled down at the rickety barstool he was meant to transfigure into a large bald-eagle. "Of  _course_  I've got it right." He snapped. "I did this very lesson  _yesterday_."

Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "Hmm…And you're sure you've got the right wording? "

"Yes, damn it!" Blaise barked, just as another swirl of his wand sent sparks flying dangerously close to Ron's chair-with-wings.

"Zabi- Harry!"

"Don't look at me; it's this God. Damn. Wand!"

 _Transfiguration has never gone this bad_! Blaise thought, angrily flicking Harry's stubborn wand in an attempt to make it behave. In fact, Blaise Zabini was one of the highest ranking in Transfiguration. He was good with a great many altering spells and his love for Kartin ADV's, a type of wizard craft that required a number of Transfiguration and shifting spells made his NEWT's a necessity if he was ever going to get himself a job in the Experimental Magics of discovering new ways to craft the ADV's and upgrade the carriers.

Yet, Harry's wand seemed to know Blaise wasn't its real master and was putting up a good struggle.

"Oh," Hermione breathed, noticing, for the first time that Blaise was using Harry's wand. "Oh, I see."

"Well I don't," Ron chimed in. He had to put out a hand to keep his chair, (which now had a large beak protruding from the back), on the ground.

"He's using Harry's wand," She explained in hushed tones. "He isn't the master of the wand so it's not working for him, just like mine never worked for Harry when he had lost his…" She trailed off and for a moment the two of the golden trio were silent while Blaise looked between them, confused. Hermione's perfectly transformed, magical enlarged blue sparrow hooted softly, bring her back to earth it seemed. "I wonder," She mused aloud, turning her bird back into an end table for the third time that lesson. Blaise looked on envious of her wand that seemed more than willing to perform her wishes. "If Harry is having just as much trouble with your wand…"

This thought brightened Blaise up considerably.

"You think so?" Ron questioned while swirling his wand over the chair, only succeeding in making the wings ruffle.

Hermione nodded. "If Harry's wand is putting up such a fight, I'm sure Harry is fighting a similar battle…we really should find Harry during break, there is no telling what might happen if either of you continue trying to cast these difficult spells with the wrong wand. The wands might try to reject you all together and backfire."

"Speaking of difficult spells, 'Mione, I could use a little, er, help here." Ron puffed out, now having to sit on his chair which seemed determined to take flight.

"Oh,  _honestly_ , Ronald." Hermione sighed while Blaise sniggered under his breath.

Granger ended up helping both of them, but that didn't stop her from lecturing all the way through lunch.

* * *

Break was almost completely over before Hermione, Ron, and 'Not Harry' had managed to corner the real Harry Potter…or, more specifically, Ron and Blaise had complained about sitting in the Library, waiting for Potter to find them when the said boy, still stuck in the body of Blaise Zabini, had finally wandered in and spotted them almost instantly. Harry almost turned back around when he saw Ron was with them, but the way Ron was looking at him, Harry knew he must have already been told the horrible news.

Being closely followed by a disgruntled looking Malfoy, Harry slugged over to the Gryffindor's' table stacked with books, and practically collapsed into a chair, extremely ruffled.

Bright green darkened behind wire rimmed glasses as Blaise narrowed his eyes at his own body. "I thought we agreed-"

" _He_ cornered  **me**." Harry cut in effortlessly with Blaise's booming voice at his command. Simply too exhausted to fight with…well…himself, Harry reached out and pulled Malfoy down into a neighboring chair. Ignoring his protests. "He demanded to know who I was, and what had happened to you…he held me at wand point and everything."

The sly Slytherin smirk on Harry Potter's face fit strangely well, much to everyone's surprise. "Oh, Draco," Blaise teased, lifting up small hands to clutch at Harry's chest in mock adoration. "I didn't know you cared so much for me."

Even with the taunting tone and the knowledge that it was Zabini speaking them; the words coming from Harry's mouth made Draco and Harry blush and grimace; dark and pale skin on two sets of high cheeks bones both taking on many shades of red. Hermione gave a polite cough that sounded suspiciously like she was holding in a snort.

Ron just looked as if he might be sick. "Mate," Gently patting the shoulder of Harry's body, Ron shook his head gravely. "No offence, but if I ever hear that utter rubbish come out of my friends' mouth again, I might have to-"

"Obliviate yourself?" Blaise finished for the redhead, who, to Blaise's continued amusement, went as red as the other two boys and dropped his head to the study table with a struggled groan.

Finally losing her control, Hermione let out a small giggle before she quickly recovered and cleared her throat. "Well," She started, making a somewhat reluctant eye contact with Malfoy. "I'm sure Malfoy and Zabini would like a moment to themselves… Harry, Ron, could you help me return these books to the astronomy section?"

It was less of a question and more of an order that Harry was only too happy to obey. He missed his friends and, he would take any chance to be alone with them again. In the back of his mind, Harry got the feeling Blaise must be at least a little bit pleased that he also had a friend he could share this with. When he looked over at his own body, he saw his bright green eyes filled with gratitude towards Hermione for leaving them alone to chat. Harry smiled.

They find a small, secluded section around the corner of a large shelf near the back and after a moment, Hermione cleared her throat, her expression full of propose. "So, Harry," She nodded at Blaise's tall, strong form before glancing over to the almost as tall, lighter body of the redhead she was used to. "How has Zabini's wand been for you?"

"What?" Harry said blankly, eyes finally lifting up from his expensive shoes.

"The wand," Hermione repeated. "Hasn't it been giving you any trouble?"

"Fine," Harry answered in puzzlement. "It's been just fine. Why do you ask?"

"No problems at all?" Ron chimed in.

Blaise's face fell into a deep frown. "…No," Harry started cautiously. He thought of all the spells he'd cast in the last two days, all of them seeming to work as they should. "I mean, it's not anywhere near as strong as my real wand, but it's worked alright for me, so far."

"Hmm…" Hermione hummed away in thought as she began to absent mindedly sort her books into alphabetical order.

"Why?" Harry asked again, looking between his best friends who both looked oddly thoughtful.

Well…okay, Ron looked oddly thoughtful. Pensive was a normal look on Hermione.

"Today in Transfiguration, Zabini seemed to having a bit of trouble getting your wand to work right." Ron supplied for him. "It kept shooting out sparks or creating these silver ribbon thingies every time he tried to cast something."

"My wand is broken?!" Harry demanded in distress.

"No, Harry, your wand is fine." Hermione hurried to placate. "It just knows Zabini isn't the real master of it so it's not working very well for him…a bit like my wand didn't work well for you when…" She trailed off but Harry understood where she was going with it.

"Oh," He mumbled, Blaise's dark brows furrowing. "Yeah, I didn't even think of that…but whys' it working fine for me then if it's giving Zabini so much trouble?"

"I don't know, Harry." Hermione said, her eyes looking crestfallen at the idea of something she doesn't know the answer to. "But I think it would be best if you and Zabini switched back to your own wands. There is no telling might happen if your wand suddenly decided to back fire or something."

Harry thought this over for a moment. "But, 'Mione, won't someone notice that we are using different wands? I mean, my wand is a dark brown wood and Zabini's is…sort of…" Harry reached into his front robe pocket where Malfoy had made him put the wand after watching Harry try to stuff it into his back pocket.  _'ARE YOU A MUGGLE?! YOU'LL BLOW YOUR ARSE OFF, MORON!'_  Malfoy had bellowed at him. Harry had just decided that moving the wand to a different place was worth it if just to shut the blonde up.

Pulling free the wand made of an ashen colored wood that Harry had been using, along with his borrowed body, Harry held it out for Hermione to inspect.

"I see," She murmured as took in the details of Zabini's recently polished wand. "Yes, I do suppose that could be a hard thing to explain."

"Especially seeing how the whole world practically knows what Harry's wand looks like thanks to the news always posting those pictures." Ron added.

Harry sighed. He hated being reminded that outside Hogwarts, there was still a whole wizarding community waiting to either thank him or try to get revenge on him.

"Then…" Hermione paused to give herself a few more seconds of thought before she brushed her hair out of her face, and said definitely. "Then we'll just have to make sure no one is paying attention when you or Zabini tries to cast anything."

"And how's' that supposed to work, do you reckon?" Ron asked, skeptically.

"Simple, really." Hermione smiled. "If Harry and Zabini only use their wands in class, and if Harry makes sure that Malfoy moves into the eye-line of anyone looking their way, while you and I, Ron, do the same for Zabini, then no one will even notice until Harry and Zabini have switched back to their right bodies."

Ron and Harry both looked at her incredulously.

"Hermione, wouldn't it just be easier to go to McGonagall?" Ron voiced after a moment, breaking the doubtful silence that had fallen on the trio.

"I kind of asked her not to," Harry muttered, his slanted dark eyes looking away in shame. "I'd rather ask Malfoy to move into someone's line of vision, than let the whole school know that I'm still the freak they think I am."

"No one thinks that, Harry." Hermione argued. Just as Ron said,

"You're not a freak, mate."

Harry smiled sadly. "I sure as hell am not normal." He insisted. "But please, Ron, just a few more days…see if this thing sorts itself out before we go and worry the whole school."

The tone in the Slytherin's voice was one Ron knew all too well as the same one Harry often uses when he is about one step away from begging on his knees, Ron caved. "I won't tell anyone," He replied honestly. "But, Harry…"

"I know." Harry said, putting Blaise's large, injured hand over Ron's thin shoulder. At the sight of the bandaged wound, Harry remembered what he had been hoping for that morning. "Hermione," Harry cautiously held out the maimed hand. "Do you think you could…you know…" He trailed off.

Hermione sighed. "I ought to just say no and make you go face Madam Pomfrey. She knows a fair more about healing spells than I do, you know." She huffed, but her threats fell flat as she took the hand and started to unwrap it without further complaint.

Harry beamed, showing off Blaise's bright, perfect teeth. He was just about to thank her for her kindness when Hermione let out a gasp and clutched Harry's hand tightly in hers.

"What's up?" Harry and Ron asked together. Blaise's voice sounding odd when mixed with Ron's.

"Harry, tell me it again. How,  _exactly,_ did you and Zabini get hurt in Potions?"

Harry gave a sideways frowned, down casting the corner of Blaise's dark lips. "What's' that matter?" He questioned.

"I think I know why you aren't experiencing any trouble with Zabini's wand. You said that you cut both of you, accidently, right?"

Nodding, Harry continued to frown as he recalled that morning in Potions. It felt like a lifetime ago. "Yeah, Zabini put his hand on my arm to get my attention and I sort of…freaked. I cut us both with the silver knife that I had meant to drop."

Hermione went back to fixing up the wound, but was looking thoughtful again. "Maybe," She ventured after a moment, Dudley's old sock now taken completely off the cut and discard onto a book. "Maybe when you cut Zabini, the wand thought you had beaten him in some way and so it's working out alright for you, where as Zabini never defeated you, so your wand is still putting up a fight."

"It could be," Harry agreed. "Although, his wand deciding to like me just before I end up in his body is a little too convent, don't you think?"

Ron began to laugh. "Harry," He said through his chuckles. "You've always had the craziest luck I've ever seen. If anyone was going to switch bodies with someone and already have a wand waiting for them when they got there, it'd be you."

At this, Harry cracked an amused smile. Hermione, however, had her auburn brows knitted and Harry knew she was giving this a more serious thought than Ron.

Hermione was just finishing up her last swish of her wand when her eyes widened and she stared at the wound she'd just completely closed up.

"Hermione?"

Blaise Zabini's deep, rumbling voice made Hermione lift her eyes away from the dark hand she was still holding. "I-I just thought-thought that I saw…Never mind, it…it was nothing." Hermione blinked. "Right, we'd better get going." She said, dropping Blaise's hand. "We've got D.A.D.A class any minute now."

Harry and Ron nodded in agreement and were just turning around to head back to the table they'd left Malfoy and Blaise at when Hermione reached out and grabbed an arm of both of them, stopping them in their tracks.

"That flame," She announced, more to herself than to them. "I've seen it before."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Well…can I just say, first off, I'm sorry for the long wait! I know, I know, I shouldn't have taken so long but this chapter was…difficult.
> 
> Second, I left off at an odd place, but, no matter, it just seemed like this was the only place right to leave off…is that weird?
> 
> And lastly, HAPPY PI DAY! :D YoursTruly made 3.14 in chocolate cream and apple. Nom nom! She even brought me a piece of each with the added price of sending her the next chapter of "Things Which Are Mine" that I've been having writers block with. She promises to add her ideas and see where we go from there so I'm really, really sorry it has taken so long to update. Please forgive me? YoursTruly says she'll give you all some of her homemade pie! ^^
> 
> So, anyways, as always your reviews welcome! Thanks for reading. ^^ -KIAD.


	5. Bonded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Drarry is real! J . K . Is just a Harry/Ginny shipper. BELIEVE IN THE DRARRY!
> 
> Written by: KillerInADress. (Master Jedi!)
> 
> Special thanks to: YoursTruly. (Eager young grasshopper!)

**Chapter Five: Bonded.**

* * *

-Last time,-

_Harry and Ron nodded in agreement and were just turning around to head back to the table they'd left Malfoy and Blaise, when Hermione reached out and grabbed an arm of both of them, stopping them in their tracks._

" _That flame," She announced, more to herself than to them. "I've seen it before."_

-And now...-

* * *

Harry and Ron exchanged a look over the head of bushy brown hair, but it went unnoticed by the girl herself, who was practically humming with the excitement of knowledge.

"Er- what flame, 'Mione?" Ron asked, torn between putting a hand on her shoulder or taking a step back. He settled for locking his arms tightly across his chest.

"I've seen that flame before! I know I have!" She almost shouted; her voice much too loud in the silent library. Ignoring the books that shushed her and leaving her two friends behind, staring after her and seemingly at a loss for words, Hermione rounded a corner of a large bookshelf and went straight down the long aisle until she found what she wanted. Ron and Harry eventually shook off their confusion and rushed after her.

"Hermione, what do you need in the 'Herbs, Earth, and Soul,' section?" Ron wondered aloud as he scanned the small sign hanging out from the top corner of the long book shelf.

"This," She said, smiling and holding out a book titled: " **Binding; '** **The Earth,** **The Charms And You.** **' A beginner's guide to the Magical bonds and theory with Nature**."

Ron frowned.

Harry frowned.

Hermione beamed. "It's bonding magic! I'm telling you I've-"

"Seen it before, we heard." Ron interrupted with a deeper frown than before. "But that's nasty stuff, binding union magic. I mean, it requires blood, and  _old_ enchantments …Harry wouldn't be involved in any of that rubbish, right?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to frown. Harry, who didn't have a clue what 'binding union' or 'bonding' magic was, just looked between his two friends uncertainty.

"It is true that this sort of magic can't be done just accidently…" The bushy haired girl muttered as she began to pace up and down in front of the two wizards. "And, I suppose a bit of planning would have to be done in order for it to even work right. I mean, there are so many little variables that one must take into account such as the time of day, the plants used as a bonding agent, the position the planets are in-not to mention the blood must, of course, be free of anything tainting. So that would cut down on the amount of items you could used to even-"

"Er," Harry said as loudly as he dared knowing Madam Pince must already be looking for them after Hermione's shouting earlier. However, he's deep voice did the trick of commanding the attention of his two best friends and Harry was secretly grateful Blaise had such a powerful voice as he asked, "What, uh, what is bonding magic?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "Harry, bonding magic is just another type of spell work."

"Only, instead of charms and curses cast from a wand, wizards would use blood and objects to bond with, some times they borrow another wizard's magical core to help achieve their goal. It's very dark magic if you ask me." Ron added with grim expression.

"Still, this type of magic hasn't really been used by wizards since the eighth century." Hermione put in thoughtfully, her gaze falling back to the book still in her hands.

Harry just felt sick. "And you think I planned to use dark magic on myself and another student?"

"Obviously not, Harry." Hermione reassured at once.

Ron just undertoned, "A Slytherin, not some helpless first year who..." But he trailed off at the dirty looks both Hermione and Harry, in Blaise's body, was sending the red-heads way. He raised his hands in surrender. "All right, I got it. But if not you, Harry, then do you think Zabini arranged this?"

The trio fell silent for a moment before Hermione took once last look down at the book in her hands. "I think we should go have a talk with the very Slytherin in Harry's body." She said resolutely and took off back through the long lines of book shelves.

"Break is practically done, wouldn't it just be better to-"

"Come  _on_ , Harry." Ron huffed, grabbing Zabini's dark arm and giving it a rough tug in the direction Hermione had disappeared to. "Hermione is as good as back to hating those stupid snakes. Don't ruin it."

Harry Potter was actually thankful he hadn't fought in the house rivals all year, but he kept his thoughts to himself and just allowed his borrowed body to be pulled along by his best mate.

* * *

"Don't tell me you really held Potter at wand point and demanded he tell you where I was?" Blaise inquired eagerly the moment he was sure the other three were far enough away.

Draco, for his part, showed no other embarrassment besides a small noise half way between a cough and a choke. "Well, at the time I didn't know it was Potter." The blonde dropped his eyes so he wasn't looking at the face Harry Potter. It was one thing to have Potter in his friends' body, but to have his friend in the Scarheads' body felt like it was something completely different. "He was just acting entirely too odd so I dragged him out to that false wall two corridors over—you know, the make out wall—and next thing I know, he is telling me  _he's_ bloody Harry Potter and pulling out this map and-"

Even with Blaise inside, Potter's snort still seemed as undignified as always. "You took Potter to the make out wall?" He said wearing the widest smile Draco had ever seen sent his way since their first year. It made his heart beat unpleasantly faster and a heat pool into his cheeks.

Draco blushed but did not back down. "Curfew was minutes away and it was the first place I thought of. Now, as I was saying-"

"That map sure is something, isn't it?"

"You've seen it?" Draco raised an eyebrow. Here he thought he finally had all of Potter's secrets to himself.

Blaise nodded. Potter's ridiculous hair letting a few curls drop down to bug his eyes beneath the glasses. "He showed it to Granger to tell her, without words, that he was in my body. I took a look at it but never found out how it actually works." He explained, roughly shoving the ringlets out of his face in irritation.

"So…" Draco ventured with a small smirk, still avoiding the unnervingly green eyes behind wire rimmed glasses. "An entire day in Potter's body, and you still haven't managed to tame that hideous birds nest he calls hair. If I didn't know any better, I'd have said you lost your touch."

Potter scowling was so familiar to Draco that the smirk grew slightly without his knowledge. "I swear it's been magically jinxed!" Blaise exclaimed as he sank back into the library chair, looking disgruntled. "No matter what charms or potions I use, it just…poof!" He made exaggerated hand motions to go with his sound effect and Draco found himself looking fully at the Potter Blaise for the first time. In the back of his mind, Draco reminded himself that this was Blaise. But the front part of his brain was far too busy acting giddy over the utter adorableness of a flustered Potter complaining about his hair.

Giving himself a rather hard shake Draco cleared his throat. "I guess even the best of the best had to meet his match one of these days."

"If I thought you even had the power to pull off a hex strong enough to fight my straightening charms, then I  _might_  be prepared to blame you for this." Blaise insulted darkly, now having Potter's green eyes so narrowed that they were almost slits. Draco opened his mouth to remind Blaise of the hair fiasco in third year when Blaise cut him off. "But, you wouldn't  _dare_  harm someone's hair beyond repair. I know you, Draco. There may not be many things the  _Ice Prince_  won't stoop too just to get what he wants, but that is certainly one of them."

Grudgingly, Draco had to admit that it was true. After his little prank in third year, Theodor had warned Draco that whatever he did to someone else, he would one day have it done to him. And Draco Malfoy, for all that he wasn't quite as vain as many thought, wouldn't dare risk something happening to his glorious hair.

"Shut it." The blonde snapped instead as the borrowed Potter started to laugh. Cheeks threatening to heat up once more, Draco glared. Grey meeting amused jewel green hidden behind slightly smudgy glass. "Doesn't Potter even own a better pair of glasses?" He complained.

Blaise grimaced. "These are the only ones he seems to have possession of and they are positively dreadful. I thought about ordering some by means of owl post but Granger seemed to think that should be left up to Potter. Honestly, judging by the state of his trunk and some of the items Weasley insists are actually clothing Potter owns, I don't feel Potter should make any kind of decision...at least, not when it comes to his appearance. Hell, even his hair seems to repel a simple hair brush."

Draco looked up and down over Potter's body. Needless to say, it was not for the first time, but this was purely for the inspection of the outfit Blaise had chosen. "It's nothing I'd write to Witch Weekly about, but his clothes do seem to actually match today." He noted with approval.

Blaise hummed in agreement. "Frankly, I didn't have much to work with from the start. It's quite a mystery, if I am so candid with myself; Potter's wardrobe is."

Draco knew that Blaise was playing with him. Giving him just enough information to make him curious but wouldn't actually elaborate unless Draco swallowed his pride and just about begged for him to finish what he started. And swallow he did. No matter how Draco tried to deny it, getting the direct inside look at Potter's life was worth the loss of dignity this single time. "Do tell, Blaise darling, what is this great mystery you are having trouble solving?"

To anyone else, that would have merely looked like a simple invite to continue ones' story. But to Blaise Zabini, best friend of extremely arrogant Draco Malfoy, that was a good a pleading on his knees for Blaise to explain what he meant.

Blaise smiled. "Well," He said slowly, drawing it out and increasing Draco's impatience. "Potter has always been so scrawny, and although I'll be the first to admit I'm rather amazed to find out how fit he really is," Blaise pretended he didn't notice his best friend checking out his borrowed body for the forth time that day. "Most everything he owns is larger than is really necessary. Even the majority of his socks are at least four sizes too big. And these shoes, god, it's no wonder Potter is always so clumsy. If I didn't know Potter was an only child, I would think he had a baby whale for a brother who just gave him all his old clothes."

Draco cracked a titter, even as his mind went into overdrive. True, he had always wondered why Potter always had such ugly and large garments but now he felt like he needed to know the answer before the question ate him alive.

"Truthfully, I'm amazed the Weaselette lets Potter leave the common room looking like he does."

"Why would the Weasel's sister care about Potter's appearance?" Draco tossed out, already dreading the answer.

"She is Potter's girlfriend, isn't she? Anyways, she actually has a decent sense of style and if she hadn't found this shirt for me this morning, I might have thrown myself off the Gryffindor tower." Blaise shook his head at the bizarreness of it all. "Why she doesn't just step in and act like a girlfriend should, is beyond me…which reminds me," Potter's face was open in smile that was teasing, which just made Draco clench his fists tighter in resentment as he thought only about stupid Weasley and their stupid love for stupid, stupid Scarhead. "Potter either has better judgment in fashion and just finds his talents blocked by all the horrid things his trunk, or you stepped in and saved my reputation by laying out his outfit for him before class. Trying to show him you make a better girlfriend than his current one, Draco?"

Still feeling the jealousy coil tightly in his gut, Draco smirked. "I don't even have to try to be a better lover than a Weasley. It happens naturally." He pretended to pick a piece of lint off his robe sleeve before the blonde added, "And anyway, I did it because I  _love~_  you, Blaise, sweetie." Draco drew out the 'O' in love and batted his eyes seductively. Blaise aimed a kick at him from under the table.

"Draco, I'm serious, this whole 'I hate him, Blaise, and that is all there is to it' thing is getting a bit old. It's about time you just come out and admit it; even I think Potter's not as bad looking as I first thought. And I'm straight, so you must find him simply 'irresistible!'"

"There is no need to be a jackarse, Blaise." Draco said stiffly. He knew his friend was only trying to tease him, but liking Harry Potter was a sore subject for the Blonde. "I do hate him. That hasn't changed just because his body has."

The temporary brunette scuffed. "Right~," He drawled with a glint in his eyes. "So you're just jealous that he is dating Ginny Weasley because you want her instead, even though you're as gay as my third father-in-law."

Draco was scowling so hard he feared he might loose sight of Harry Potter's body all together. "I'm not jealous of anyone." He bit out tersely.

Blaise just nodded along sympathetically. "Of course, and why should you be? It's clear you make a better girlfriend than her anyways, so you have nothing to-"But whatever Draco didn't have, he never found out as he shot a hex at Potter's body, silencing Blaise's words instantly.

Blaise glared, made a few hand gestures and even mouthed a few choice words. However, Draco did not remove the spell until Blaise held up his hands in silent surrender.

"Finite." The pale wizard whispered to his wand and the wizard in tan skin felt his vocal's clear.

"Bastard." Was all Blaise said as he crossed his arm and set his face into a sulky expression.

Draco smiled. "Learned our lesson, now, have we?"

Blaise glared impossibly harder, but Draco was hit by how weird it felt to see Potter glare without his usual spark of fire behind those glasses. "If Potter's wand wasn't as stubborn as its owner, you would eat those words." He mumbled in his continued sulk. "Still, I stand by what I said. Sooner or later you'll have to accept that Harry Potter has you wrapped around his finger and I'd thank you to contain yourself while he is still in my body before you just snog him senseless, alright?"

Draco opened his mouth to ask Blaise how he could  **dare** suggest Potter had him like some kind of rogue snitch but the sudden yelling of a female sounding voice not too far from them shook both boys from their discussion and the Slytherin's stared in amazement as Hermione Granger rushed passed the row of bookshelves, Potter and Weasley in tow shortly after.

Blaise looked down at Potter's small, half working watch. "What is she doing? Break is as good as over."

"Maybe someone found a book in here that she has yet to read." Draco shrugged.

Sniggering, the green eyes began to scan their surroundings. "Damn. Looks like Pince isn't here. How lucky for perfect Granger." He grumbled.

Pale brows drew down in puzzlement. "I thought you and Granger got on alright?"

"We do," Potter's shoulders lifted and fell in a motion of noncommittal agreement. "But if I'm going to be late for class, they might as well make up for it with a little entertainment, don't you think?"

Draco raised one of his pale brows at that. "Why don't you just go without them?"

Blaise sighed. "Learning a whole new schedule was much too much work for a temporary situation so I've just followed the two Gryffindor as there is a good chance Potter is in most of the classes his friends are."

"Potter tried that with me, found himself sitting through three classes you no longer take. I don't even think the idiot realized he was receiving odd looks from the teachers and some of the other students."

"Oh? Was one of those classes, History of Magic? I heard Binns mumbling something about young boys being disrespectful of others when I went in there with Granger for class this morning."

Draco covered his mouth to stifle his laughter in the silent library. "Binns said that? That's excellent!"

"What happened?" Blaise pressed warily, unable to see a teacher being unhappy about a student willing to learn.

Draco took a moment to calm himself before he retold the story of Potter finding himself without a desk, transfigurating himself one and failing to properly hold the magic when he fell asleep. Repeating this process a total of three times before he finally ended up knocking another Slytherin girl out of her seat when his vanished and he toppled over into her.

By now, Draco was laughing so hard, he was in danger of falling out of his chair, while Blaise covered his burning face and thought up every way he would torture his so called 'best friend' for letting Potter embarrass himself so terribly while still in Blaise's body.

Neither of them took notice of Granger, who had taken one of the empty seats at the table, until she cleared her throat loudly.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your bonding time, but could you excuse us, Malfoy? I have something to discuss with Zabini."

Blaise took his head out of Harry's smaller hands and was about to say his goodbyes when he saw the look in Granger's eyes. It made him feel nervous. "Why?" He asked instead, holding out a hand in a silent appeal for Draco to remain seated. Draco did.

"Because I'm sure Malfoy has classes he needs to get to." Granger said simply.

Again, Blaise held out a hand. "Yes, but as do we. Why should he leave first?"

Granger opened her mouth just as Ron came into view, dragging along Blaise's body as Harry looked indulgently amused by his friends' behavior. "Did you ask him? Is he guilty? Have you hexed his face off- Malfoy? What are you still doing here?" Ron demanded as he took notice of the Blonde still sitting where they left him.

"I'm-"

"Right, Malfoy, you should probably get going if you don't want to be late to Defense."

"Is that the class we had next?" Blaise asked, completely forgetting his discomfort.

It returned the moment Draco narrowed his eyes at Granger. "Why are you so eager for me to leave?"

Granger narrowed her own auburn eyes right back. "Because I wish to have a talk with Zabini about something that doesn't concern you, Malfoy."

Blaise and Draco both opened their mouths to object but Harry was first. Blaise Zabini's voice was booming as Harry shook off Ron and placed his large dark hand on Hermione's shoulder instead. "I trust Malfoy; we can talk in front of him."

All four students dropped their jaws and stared at Harry Potter in Blaise Zabini's body with wide eyes. Harry might have dropped his own jaw at what he had just said if his jaw wasn't so set in a firm lock, hoping against hope that he wouldn't have to ever repeat that.

Hermione recovered first. "You trust him, Harry? How can you be sure?"

Harry inwardly sighed with relief. "He was really shocked when he found out Zabini had been switched with someone else, much less me. He didn't plan this, I - we can trust him." He repeated anyways, just to get his point across.

Blaise was the second to recover. "Potter, Granger, what are you talking about? Someone actually  _planned_  us switching bloody bodies?"

And that, managed to snap Draco and Ron both free of their own stupors. "Don't pretend you didn't have a part in this, Zabini!" Ron accused at once.

"Ron, please, it wasn't Zabini either."

"Yes, Weasley, stop trying to hex me every chance you get. It's getting tiring."

"I wasn't-"

" _Ronald_!" Hermione's voice stopped the bickering in its tracks as Ron and Zabini both fell silent at her disapproving tone.

"What makes you think Blaise is innocent?" Draco finally spoke up, asking the question that was also on Ron mind.

Hermione instructed everyone to take a seat before she acknowledged Malfoy's question. "Harry and I have already questioned Zabini and he seemed just as upset about this arrangement as Harry. And his retelling matched up with Harry's exactly when Ron and Ginny figured out he wasn't Harry."

"You'll have to explain how that went," Zabini's body whispered to Hermione as Blaise in Potter's body looked uncomfortable for a moment before nodding in agreement to what Hermione said.

"And if Harry says you're also blameless, Malfoy, then I believe him." Granger added as she placed a red and brown covered book on the table. "Now, what do you two know about Bonding Magic?"

Potter's body paled as Blaise swallow hard.

Draco blinked. "Are you talking about Binding Union Magic?" He asked in a calmer tone than he felt.

"Hmm…must be an old family wizarding term." Hermione muttered to herself as she noticed both Ron and Malfoy seemed to call it the same thing while herself and Zabini recognized the bonding term from the books. "Yes, binding union, bonding, second hand blood magic, or whatever you call it."

It now seemed the only two not looking a least somewhat ill was Hermione and Harry. Blaise was the first to speak up. "I've read theories on it in runes but nothing beyond that."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I've read those too. Malfoy?"

Draco shifted ever so slightly in his chair, hoping to ease the discomfort of the conversation. "My uncle used to tell me stories of his father, who dabbled in binding union magic, but…I've never learned much about it on my own for the obvious reasons."

Again, Hermione nodded. "Well, I was healing Harry's-oh, uhm-I mean your hand, I suppose." Hermione gave Harry's body a glance before she continued. "And as I was performing the last wand movement, I saw a flame and remembered seeing it before in this book," She indicated the bonding book still sitting closed on the table. "I had read once when I was looking for a certain note on a tree root's other uses."

"And you think someone bonded Blaise and Potter to one another?" Draco questioned with one skeptical eyebrow raised. "It's hard to believe, Granger. Binding magic is incredibly rare these days."

"Can you show me the flame?" Blaise chimed in, looking closer to Harry's normal skin tone than before. "That might help narrow down what we are expected to do to finalize the rituals."

Harry finally got a glimpse at why everyone else seemed so unsettled by this bonding stuff. "We are required to complete tasks?" He wondered aloud to no one in particular.

"It depends on the bonding ceremony, Potter." Draco answered him.

Hermione flipped through the pages until she found the flame she remembered and passed the book over to Blaise, who began reading over the bonding procedure of the 'Born Wish.'

"Hermione figures that it can't have just been done on a mishap so someone must have been planning this for a long time. Hermione said that it involves a million tiny things like the shift of the planets and the time of day, that kind of stuff. Do you know anyone who would want to switch our bodies for any reason?" Harry asked his own body when Blaise kept his head buried in the book.

There was silence for moment until Blaise, quite suddenly, cried out in anger and shoved the book into Potter's hands. "Congratulations, Potter." Blaise spat at the boy in his body. "You're the first person to _ **ever**_  create a bloody bond by  _fucking accident_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Whew, another chapter!
> 
> I don't really have a lot to say today, (cue laughter from readers), but I must ask you all, would you prefer more information of the 'Born Wish' I've created, or would you rather just make up your own background for it?
> 
> I've got a basic idea of what the book tells you on how to make a 'Born Wish' bond and I'm eager to see how well I can write out the informational side of it, (considering more than half of it just comes out of my insane, jumbled little mind), but there really isn't enough people interested in it, then I don't think I'll go through the trouble of adding it.
> 
> Let me know in the reviews and anything else as well, I welcome comments, concerns, or even just any mistakes I've made pointed out to me.
> 
> If there is anything you'd like to add, any ideas you have for "A Bond" like what it does or a cool name for it that I can add to my own story would be welcome as well… Really, I guess you could say your reviews are always welcome!
> 
> TeeHee,
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> ^^ -KIAD.


	6. His Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter is to Draco, what butter is to beer.

**Chapter Six: His wish.**

* * *

 

-Last time,-

 

 _Blaise, quite suddenly, cried out in anger and shoved the book into Potter’s hands. “Congratulations, Potter.” He spat at the boy in his body. “You’re the first person to_ **ever** _create a bloody bond by_ fucking accident! _”_

 

-And now...-

 

 

* * *

 

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all crowded around to read the page on the ‘Born Wish’ while Draco just looked at his friend locked in anothers’ body. Blaise looked truly pissed.

Harry scanned the page which held the drawing of a brilliant flare. “Hey! I saw that flame this morning! I meant to ask you about it, Hermio---” But Harry broke off as he finally found the list of things one needed for the bond. Blaise’s dark skin seemed to drain of its glow as Harry felt his stomach drop and he quickly lifted his eyes back to the top and started to read.

 

 

* * *

 

The ‘ _Born Wish_ ’ was established by Brindelin Backworth The 2nd, who, in 800 B.C, greatly wished to change into the form of a bird, but held no animagus abilities. He spent the better part of his life searching for a cure to his lack of magical concentration and it was on his 280th birthday that Brindelin came across the traveling wizard, Kartens, who specialized in binding unions. Brindelin studied under this wizard for ten years before he learned of the ‘ _Heart’s Darkest Secret_ ’ bond that was used throughout 709 B.C to catch servants who had affairs with their masters’ wives.

Brindelin spent another year after that discovery, changing around the formula to make a bond that would, instead of reveling your darkest secret, it would revel your deepest wish.

Once he had found the right method, Brindelin tried it out with his partner, Kartens, the binding union wizard specialist whose deepest wish turned out to be that he was present to a new bond formula being created. Kartens never recorded the proper technique that Brindelin made for he died immediately after his life goal was met and both of them got their wishes. Brindelin, it is speculated, was never able to turn back into a human because, again, he lacked the concentration. But many believe he was happy just the same.

Below is the procedure that many scholars have managed to take from the scroll of notes written by a bird who, it is believed, was the great Brindelin himself?

This process has been tested many different ways but many still believe it isn’t the complete one as many find that it simply vanishes from their magical cores should their wish change. Not much else is known about the season, day, time, and planet positions one must be in for this bond to form, but many have claimed that it will not work on Sundays because wishes take breaks on Sundays.

This formula is one of the more dangerous ones, if the environment or surroundings are wrong once the stone has activated, the wizard will no longer find himself in a ‘ _Born Wish_ ’ bond, but in a ‘ _Revenge of Time’_ bond that is used for enemies who would rather die than fail to actually kill their rival. The bond in question will kill the wizard in three days if the wizards’ do not take their revenge on their enemies before then.

This formulated method of the ‘Born Wish’ bond is in speculation only, not intended for actual use.

Two sliver Bear Stones. (Reader should note that grey Bear Stones do not work and will likely infect the wizard with dragon-pox instead of a bond.)

A silver blade.

A small flame. (Must not be larger than the palm of the wizard’s hand.)

Exactly three drops of blood from each witch or wizard.

A dark cave or dungeon. 

Eye contact.

Both wizards should gather everything and set up in a darkened cave or dungeon.

Each wizard with crush their own bear stone with a silver knife or blade. 

Once it has been reduced to dust, take the silver blade, (it must be silver or else the blood will be tainted and will kill both wizards the moment the bear stone enters the bloodstream), and cut small, three to six inch slits into arm or hand and add three drops of blood to each wizard’s open wound.

Then, add a small amount of bear stone dust to the wounds. Many believe that the less, the more effective the bond. (It is unknown if it is safer to add the bear stone before or after the blood. Many believe it will not work right if the bear stone is added later but no one has ever been willing to do it twice to see if there really is a difference.)

Light a small fire and place it between both of the bonders.

As soon as the blood and dust has mixed, both wizards must hold eye contact.

If the flame is visible from the corner of both wizards’ eyes, then the stone has been activated. Wizards should note that their magic will begin to drain and should not strain themselves, simply sleep it off and when you awake, your bond with mark upon your wish.

*Please note that wizards should not attempt to make this Bond as it has been known to get temperamental the longer it is straining to fulfill a wish and a wizard under this bond may find themselves falling ill of over-stressed magical exertion and possible coma or death may occur. The ‘Born Wish ’ bond has not been approved and is untested by the Ministry officials to this day and it is still unknown how far the bond will go to make a wish happen.*

 

* * *

 

 

Hermione was the first to make the connection. “Oh, _Harry_. You…you _didn’t_.”

Harry wasn’t too far behind. He groaned, much as Blaise had, only his was full of despair rather than of anger.

Ron didn’t seem to understand the significance at all. “What? What didn’t Harry do, ‘Mione?”

Setting the book back down on the table, Harry took a heavy breath. “I think I did.”

“Did what?” Ron demanded, looking between his girlfriend and best friend in borrowed body.

Draco finally decided he had better see what damage Potter had done and picked up the book Potter had just laid down.

“The potions class,” Hermione explained for Ron who was the only one still left out of the loop. “When Harry cut Zabini on accident, I think he must have been cutting the silver Bear Stone for the potion and---“

“Hang on,” Draco joined in, looking up in confusion. “It says to cut up two Bear Stones. You only need one for that particular kind of Miniscula potion.”

“I was already grinding one up when Potter, for god knows what reason, started crushing one as well.” Blaise muttered darkly.

Harry felt Zabini’s dark cheeks heat as everyone turned to look at him. “I was, er, day dreaming.” He clarified in an embarrass mumble.

Hermione gave a huff that reminded Harry of all the similar ones Hermione would give when she found him day dreaming in class.

“Did you also shove the Bear Stone powder into his hand, too?” Ron piped up.

“My guess is there was still some on the knife that got into both of their wounds when Harry jumped.”

Draco scanned the list again. “How did you exchange blood?” He asked, making a face.

“Damn it, Potter, I told you not to touch my hand with your bloody ones!”

“I just wanted to help!” Harry returned, defensively. “You couldn’t bandage it by yourself.”

“Yeah, well, if you weren’t so edgy all the time, then none of this would---“

But whatever Blaise wanted to say, no one ever found out as Madam Pince had finally returned, and seemed to be more furious than normal as she barked at them to get to class and warned that they would all be banned if they ever raised their voices in her library again.

Once they were outside, Blaise shot one dark sneer at his own body before he stormed off. The remaining four looked between each other.

Hermione was the first to break the tension. “DA-DA has already started. We had better hurry if don’t want detention too.”

“Hermione, I’m—“

“I know, Harry.” Hermione cut him off and gave him a fleeting hug before she let go as if she’d been burned. “At least now we know what we are up against. Don’t think about it too much just now, we’ll talk after dinner, alright?”

Reluctantly, Harry nodded.

Hermione smiled at Zabini’s body, gave Malfoy the smallest of nods, and then took off for class. Ron raised a hand and clapped Harry’s shoulder. “Mate, you have the craziest luck in the world. This will all work out, you’ll see.” And then he, too, left in the direction of Defense. But he did it without so much as glare Malfoy’s way.

Well, thought Harry, that was certainly improvement on Ron’s part at least.

Harry cautiously turned to look at Malfoy. “Er---”

“Just don’t, ScarHead.” Malfoy snapped.

Harry expected him to stalk off after Zabini, but Malfoy stayed put. He didn’t look at Harry, but he didn’t leave, either. Harry took a deep breath. “Mal---“

“Damn it, Potter, just shut up and go to class won’t you!”

Harry blinked. “What about you, then?”

“I’m…” Malfoy paused, eyes moving to and fro as if he was unsure of why he was still standing there himself. “Clearly, I’m making sure you don’t skive off. Blaise has a reputation and after History of Magic, I think you’ve done enough damage for one day. Now move or we’ll be given double detention on top of everything.”

Harry sighed, but obediently walked down the hall and all the way to class without another word to pass between them. Harry felt awful. An hour ago, he hadn’t even known that this bonding --- binding union crap even existed, and yet, somehow, he was the first moron to make a bond on accident. Ron was wrong; he didn’t have luck…not good luck, anyways. He was just the freak everyone thought he was. Maybe he would always be.

Distracted as he was with his own brooding thoughts, Harry didn’t notice Malfoy lagging behind him slightly, a pensive look on his pale face. Nor did he see the edge of the bonding book sticking out of Malfoy’s bag that he had slipped inside while Pince had been busy yelling.

He wasn’t even paying enough attention in class to spot the exact moment Malfoy started to smirk.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Stop _fidgeting_.” Draco hissed as Potter, in Blaise’s body, shifted restlessly in his seat for the millionth time since he had sat down for dinner. “Slytherin’s do not squirm around like first years about to be sorted.”

“Shut up, Malfoy, I’m not fidgeting. I’m just…” He trailed off, Blaise’s chocolate eyes still trained on the Gryffindor table with undivided attention.

“Impatient?” Draco suggested offhandedly. “Anxious? Worried?”

“Annoyed.” Potter muttered out of the corner of Blaise’s dark lips without looking over at the blonde. “In a hurry to escape the intolerable git who can’t keep quiet for two whole seconds.”

“Like I’m not eager to rid myself of the insufferable idiot who can’t sit _still_ for _two seconds_?” Draco demanded in a hushed tone of incredulity.

Potter narrowed Blaise’s eyes in a hard stare, but he still wasn’t looking at Draco.

Well, that just won’t do at all.

“Obtrusive, hotheaded, Gryffindor.” Draco tossed out, carelessly.

Blaise’s head turned slowly as Potter shot him a glare. “That’s rich, coming from a petty Slytherin such as you.” He returned coldly.

It wasn’t ideal, but it got Potter’s attention elsewhere for once this whole meal and that was enough for Draco. “Petty? That’s like saying you aren’t a total reckless prat.”

“What the hell, Malfoy, are you _trying_ to start a fight with me?”

“I’m merely surprised a dolt such as yourself can go around calling anyone petty when you hang around such small-minded Gryffindorks all day.”

“Oh, piss off, you prejudiced bastard. My friends aren’t nearly as small-minded as _your_ friends are.”

There was something very odd about seeing Potter’s defiant fire light up inside the chocolate eyes that _should be_ bottle green. Draco decided he didn’t like it and was forced to drop his own eyes before Potter saw the emotion that was seeping out onto his face.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Draco sniffed instead, making a show of looking around at their classmates so as to avoid the unnerving passion in his friends’ borrowed eyes. “Slytherin’s are the most liberal people you’ll ever meet.”

Blaise’s snort was unexpected, but a welcome surprise as Potter replied softly, but not unkindly. “Pale wanker.”

“Brainless tosser.” Draco matched with a teasing air of his own, feeling a smile tug at the corner of his lips that he half-heartily suppressed.

Across from them, Pansy sat with narrowed eyes, watching the exchange with interest.

It wasn’t until the, (almost), golden trio started to make their way out of the Great Hall did Pansy speak up. “Draco, a moment, please?” She called when Draco and Not-Blaise stood to follow after the group who just left.

Draco nodded to Potter to go on without him and waited until his friends’ body was out of the double doors before he turned his attention to the girl before him. “Parkinson?” He greeted with a puzzled look.

Pansy pushed her dark hair behind her ear and seemed to hesitate before pulling Draco off to the side of the hall. “Draco, what was that back there?” She asked after a moment.

“What?”

“You know very well ‘ _what_ ’. Why the hell are you and Blaise bickering like…well, like you and _Potter_?”

Draco almost blanched but forced himself to stay calm. Potter might not kill him if he told Pansy the truth, but it certainly wouldn’t win him any points. Besides, Pansy had decided to ask him about it, so that meant she wasn’t sure about what she had seen and that gave Draco the hope he needed to offer her a slight smile. “It wasn’t anything, Pans.” He soothed gently. “You know that Blaise and I have a few good natured squabbles every now and then.”

“Bullshit.”

Draco had just been turning to leave when that single word stopped him in his tracks. “Exc—excuse me?” Draco stumbled out as he turned his shell-shocked grey eyes back to her.

“That’s absolute bullshit and you know it.” She retorted, placing her hands upon her hips and giving the blonde a hard look. “’Good-natured squabble’? You called Blaise a _Gryffindor_ and he didn’t even flinch. Even Theo’s eye twitched when you insinuated Zabini was spending his time with people like the Weasel. So, I will ask you again, what was that, back there, with bloody Potter?”

This time, Draco did blench. “I---I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Pans,” The blonde tried to placate the girl but Pansy wasn’t having it.

“Draco Malfoy, you’re practically whiter than the Bloody Baron---“

“I’ve always been naturally fair!” Draco countered.

“---And you have a nasty habit of tapping your finger against your leg when you’re nervous. Now stop stalling, or, I’ll tell everyone of your chocolate frog card collection that contains _at least_ eight cards of ‘The Famous Harry Potter’.”

Draco froze.

“ _And_ how you love to sing Celestina Warbeck in the baths when you think no one is around.”

The grey eyed wizard was glowering so icily, Pansy Parkinson actually took an instinctive step backwards. But her smirk never faltered.

The sound of the students talking and laughing, and the occasional clink of utensils on bowls or plates as people finished off what was left of their desserts filled the air around the two Slytherin’s  as they stared boldly into the others’ eyes, making no move to further the conversation.

Draco was the first to fold. Closing his silver eyes in defeat, the pale blonde rubbed the bridge and opened his mouth in resignation, never knowing that if he had waited just second longer, Pansy would have backed down and agreed that she must have seen wrong if Draco didn’t take the bait of his embarrassing secrets getting out. “I promise I’ll explain it tonight in the commons, just…keep this to yourself for now, alright?”

“Oh my god!”

“Pansy, keep your voice _down!_ ”

Pansy covered her mouth, hazel orbs blown wide. “He isn’t really...but…how… I thought…?”

Holding out a hand to silence Pansy’s incoherent struggle for words, Draco narrowed his eyes. “I said, I’ll explain this _later_.” He stressed.

Slowly, the curly haired girl nodded her head in understanding. Draco felt himself relax a little just as former lunged forward and slapped the blonde hard across the face.

Draco recoiled sharply. “ _Ow!_ The fuck, Parkinson?!” He roared at the witch, gingerly nursing his smarting cheek.

Putting a stray black curl behind her ear, Pansy scrunched up her pug-like nose. “ _That_ , is for you not telling me this information sooner.” Then she gave a huff and turned on her heel to stalk out of the double doors and into the entryway beyond.

Most of the Great Hall had looked over at the pair and Draco made sure to glare down anyone who dared to meet his eye as he followed after her.

The moment he cleared the Great Hall doors, Draco paused and looked around as he silently debated with himself if might not just be better to go back to the Slytherin dorms and wait for Potter to return instead of searching the entire castle for Blaise and the three golden idiots.

Deciding to at least check the library before giving up, Draco took a single step towards the stairway leading to the first floor landing and felt a large piece of watery fabric envelop him. For the longest second in history, Draco Malfoy felt himself panic, expecting his vision to be obscured and his senses dulled at any moment.

But it never came.

Instead, the empty entry hall just grew slightly darker and though he could still feel the veil of gentle cloth surrounding him, there was no constriction and the air wasn’t as stuffy as it should have been.

“An invisibility cloak,” The blonde muttered to himself in a dim amazement.

“Yeah, sorry if I scared you.” The deep voice of Blaise filled the quiet as hot air blew passed the shell of Draco’s ear and the pale wizard turned his head to see the dark body of his best friend, slightly hunched over to give the cloak enough room to cover both of them as Potter went on, “But I couldn’t just pass the map to you without Parkinson seeing, and I knew Zabini would probably appreciate a friend with him as much as I appreciate Ron and Hermione being there, so...” He offered a sheepish shrug.

Draco felt as if his heart beat was racing for a completely different reason now as he watched the uncertain grin on his friends’ borrowed lips falter slightly. “That’s rather intelligent of you, Potter. Who knew you had it in you with that small brain of yours?”

Potter must have picked up on the ribbing being a light one as he gave the blonde a shove that wasn’t forceful and the cautious grin grew into a smile. “I think that’s you, Malfoy. I’ve always been a clever one.”

Draco opened his mouth to object to the utter idea of Potter being clever, but the double doors opened at that moment and Blaise’s large arms encircled Draco’s middle as Harry dragged them both out of the way before the two Ravenclaws ran into them on their way out of the dinner hall.

They stood just long enough for the girls to clear the top step before the larger man pulled out the map and held his wand to the surface. Harry and Blaise had switched their wands halfway through Defense against the Dark Arts when everyone had been too distracted with their dueling partners to notice anything strange, and Blaise had nearly hexed himself with Potter’s wand when it backfired.

The dark wood in Zabini’s already dark hand was weird for Draco to see as he was so used to the pale contrast Zabini’s real wand had on his black skin.

“It looks like they are in an empty classroom near the third floor, come on.” Harry said as soon as he found them. He pocketed the map and was just about to remove the cloak when Draco caught his arm as a thought stuck him.

“Potter, tell me something…”

Harry waited. But when Draco did not show any signs of continuing, Harry lowered his arm and raised an eyebrow in question. “What?”

Draco took a breath, opening his mouth when he decided that the answer to his question was one he really wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. “Never mind.” The blonde mumbled as he slipped out from the invisible material and started up the stairs.

Potter tucked the cloak away and wasn’t far behind. “No, Malfoy, what did you want to know?”

“It’s nothing, Potter. And my name is _Draco_.”

The reminder of his name threw Harry off his train of thought. “Wait…what?”

Turning to face the Savior trapped inside the Italian Slytherin who had stopped walking, Draco heaved a sigh of exasperation. “You’ve called me ‘Malfoy‘ several times during class and in the hallways, and, just now, you said it twice at dinner. So, I thought you might have forgotten that my _friends_ call me by my proper name, _Blaise_.”

Harry suddenly understood. “Oh,” He said as he sheepishly edged around the pale blonde and continued up the stairs.

“Oh?” Draco echoed, following after him. “That’s all you have to say for yourself? You do realize Pansy just cornered me to ask why you’re acting so strange---“

Harry spun around so fast he almost lost his footing and had to grab the railing to keep from falling. “What?”

“There’s no need to look so worried.” Draco snipped haughtily.  “I haven’t told her anything of importance, yet, however---“

“Yet?”

“Well, it isn’t Parkinson’s style to just back down from something she feels could be good gossiping material. I wouldn’t be surprised if she confronts us in the common room after curfew.”

This wasn’t exactly a lie. Pansy Parkinson was known for her nosiness and persistence. So long as she didn’t mention Draco promising to tell her, Potter need never know a Malfoy gave into the hands of blackmail.

It took Harry some time to get his thoughts in order before he offered his blonde rival a nod and continued up to the third floor. He didn’t know what Parkinson might ask if she did manage to pin him down later, but he wanted to be sure he was ready for her when she did.

 

* * *

 

In the first empty classroom to the left of the stairway leading up to the fourth floor landing, Hermione Granger was finishing up homework.

“What’s taking him so long?” Ron wondered aloud as soon as he figured he’d done enough ‘pretending to do his homework’ to keep his girlfriend off his back while he shoved the half-written essay back into his school bag.

“I’m not sure…maybe Harry left the map back in the dungeons and they had to go retrieve it.”

Ron made a face. “You don’t think he’s bringing the Ferret along too, do you?”

Blaise narrowed Potter’s jeweled eyes. “Draco is not a ferret. And you’d do well not to mention those furry things in front of him if you value your hair and freckles.”

Ron opened his mouth to retort when the door knob started to twist and Hermione was thankful she didn’t have to intervene for the third time that evening as the two boys turned to watch the other two they had waited on, finally enter the classroom, closing the door behind them.

“What took so long?” Was Ron’s greeting to the Gryffindor in Slytherin robes. Zabini’s dark face looked sheepishly over at the red-head as Harry muttered his apologies.

“All that matters is that you’re here now.” Hermione chimed in, waving away Harry’s automatic excuses. “I think it’s important that we resolve this before you or Zabini gets hurt.”

Ron frowned. “Wha’d’you mean?”

“That book on bonding had some warnings about this ‘wish bond’ in the fine print nearing the end…didn’t you read the whole page?” When Ron and Harry looked down sheepishly while Blaise huffed softly from his perch on the dust teachers’ desk, Hermione sighed and shook her head. “ _Honestly_ ,” She whispered to herself, exasperated. “Oh, I wish I had thought to check that book out before we left.”

Harry shot her a look of pure disbelief as he took a seat at the student desk to her left. “’Mione,” He started apprehensively. “Pince…well, she was livid! She would have torn your head off if you’d tried to check out a book after she caught us yelling in her library.”

The bushy-haired witch scuffed. “I wasn’t the one who was shouting. I see no reason why she would deny me the privilege of some light reading.”

The two Slytherin’s, (who weren’t used to the girl’s idea of ‘light’), raised their eyebrows skeptically. The other Gryffindor’s, on the other hand, (who were quite adapt to their friends’ antics after the years of practices), merely blinked.

“And anyway,” Sounding a bit putout, Hermione added. “It doesn’t matter now, seeing as the book wasn’t there when I went back to check it out before dinner.”

Draco edged his bag around behind him slightly, looking innocently back at the group. “What did the fine print say, exactly?” He asked Hermione with feigned ignorance.

Hermione took a deep breath.

All four boys groaned inwardly.

“Well,” She began as she shoved her schoolbook closed and looked around at them all with a serious expression. “It said something about the bond getting temperamental if left too long, as it is continuously exchanging magical flow through the wizard’s’ core. I mean, even the most stable of spell-work will break down in texture with that much strain on it.”

Draco had to admit, he’d forgotten about that particular warning. “You have a point, there. But binding union magic is the most rooted magic you can go. I hardly think two days will do much damage to---“

“But we’ve no way of knowing how _long_ this bonding will stay on them.” Hermione cut in quickly. “And there was also a note on wizards that have, under the current work of sharing magic that is never meant to be shared, found themselves falling ill of over-stressed magical exertion and that in some cases, coma or death may have occurred.”

Everyone was silent for a moment, the full impact of Hermione’s words seemingly more sobering than the whole idea of Harry accidently bonding himself to another student.

Harry was the first to break the hush. “Then…” He hesitated. The dark hand made a nervous gesture to run through what little hair Zabini had on his head as Harry took in a breath. He had the uncomfortable feeling that this would get worse before it got better. “How are we to sort out this bond stuff before it does any harm?”

Draco answered just as Hermione had opened her mouth to reply. “We need to know what your wish is.” He stated, going on without pause when the auburn haired girl just reclosed her mouth and willingly gave him the floor to continue. “Both you and Zabini have some kind of deep longing in you that this bond as attached itself to---according to the book--- and until these needs are met, this magical current is going to keep draining you both.”

“You know, I think it’s time we take this to the Headmistress.” Hermione put in further. More to save the two boys, (who were turning a sickly sallow color as they avoided the eyes of everyone else in the room), than because she actually thought anyone would consent to her wishes.

To her surprise, however, three of the other boys looked as if they were ready to agree, but Zabini’s dark eyes met her own in a look that suggested Harry would fight her all the way to the stone gargoyle and back if she tried.

“As much as I loathe to say it, perhaps Ganger is right.” Blaise acquiesce. Making to stand up, Harry turned his glare to his own body.

“You promised.” Harry accused Hermione in a deceivingly calm tone. His eyes never wavering from his own body. “You said---“

“Yes, I did, Harry. But you gave me your word that if this got worse or---“

“How has it gotten worse? If anything, it’s better now we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Then tell us, Potter, what are we dealing with?” Draco’s voice successfully broke the staring contest Harry was having with his own green eyes and, blinking, Harry looked over into the grey orbs. “What is your deepest, darkest wish?”

Harry looked down at Zabini’s expensive shoes, flushing darkly. “Er---I don’t---“ He drew in a lung full of air and closed his eyes in an attempt to steal his nerves. “I wanted to be normal. For just one day I wanted to be someone---anyone--- normal.” He confessed softly.

Hermione and Ron shared a pained look. “Harry---“

“Don’t, Hermione. Just…just don’t.”

“Hm,” Draco hummed in thought, ignoring the troubled look on his friends’ borrowed face. “If that’s it, then, you’ve completed the bond.”

“What are you on about?” Ron snapped at the blonde. “If the bonds complete, why are they still switched?”

“I didn’t say the whole bond was satisfied, Weaselbee.” Draco sneered.

“But…Harry’s side of the bond is.” Hermione said slowly as she caught on. “Which means that only Zabini’s wish must not be fulfilled yet.”

Blaise looked uncharacteristically sheepish.

“What are you wishing for, Zabini?” Ron asked, turning his attention to Harry’s body. “Come on, let’s have it.”

Blaise shrunk further onto the desk, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t really know what I desire, actually.”

“Not even the faintest idea what you might be yearning for?” Hermione pressed.

Blaise shook his head slowly.

Everyone felt themselves deflate slightly.

“Well, I still say we should take this to a higher authority.” Hermione offered out into the quiet.

Harry glared.

“Wouldn’t do us much good at the moment, Ganger.”

Surprised, Hermione turned to look at the pale Slytherin. “Why do you say that?”

“Because without knowing what Blaise is longing for, the only thing that can be done is to help him try and sort it out... And I feel that might be a bit harder with the whole school breathing down his neck the entire time.”

With what looked like a monumental effort, Hermione accepted defeat. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She assented with a sigh.

Draco felt the smugness seep onto his pale face and managed to contain the majority of it before anyone else noticed. It wasn’t every day that Hermione Granger admitted someone had the better answer.

“Right, here’s what I think,” Draco went on after a moment of composure. “Blaise, you should spend all your free time thinking long and hard about what your wish might be. Anything and everything you think of, write it down and at the end of the day, we’ll go over your list and go on from there.”

Harry Potter’s head bobbed in compliance as Blaise felt that his friend probably knew more about this than any of them.

“The rest of us, (Merlin forbid), will just have to make it one more day in this ‘bizarre exchange’.”

To the tremendous astonishment of everyone, Ron chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: I hate to say this, but with a big event coming up, it's very possible I might not be writing anything for a while.
> 
> No promises, but I'll try my hardest to at least write 150 words a day. (My norm.)
> 
> Anyways, your reviews are welcome! Thanks for reading. ^^ -KIAD.


	7. Redheads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I may not own Harry Potter, or Pottermore; but nonetheless the sorting hat has spoken! House of the Snakes do I belong. ^^ (Suck it, YT!)
> 
> Written by: KillerInADress.
> 
> Special thanks to: YoursTruly. (I’m sorry I said “suck it”, please forgive me?)

 

**Chapter Seven: Redheads.**

* * *

 

-Last time,-

 

 

_“The rest of us, (Merlin forbid), will just have to make it one more day in this ‘bizarre exchange’.”_

_To the tremendous astonishment of everyone, Ron chuckled._

 

 

-And now...-

* * *

 

 

To anyone else, the Boy-Who-Lived, (currently seated in a plushy armchair by the fire), was radiating anger and resentment as he glared down at the blank piece of parchment resting atop his knobbly-knees.

To anyone else, the Savior was probably working on a late piece of potions homework that Hermione Granger had finally forced him to start, and it was safer to leave him to it lest he try to use you as an excuse to get out of his work, causing Hermione to suddenly appear from nowhere, ready to tell you off for distracting him.

To anyone else, Harry Potter was sending out one of his ‘I’m brooding. Stay clear or else!’ vibes that, by now, most everyone in Gryffindor had learned to read.

 

Then again, when has Ginny Weasley ever been just _anyone else_?

 

“What’cha’ doin’?” She probed him in a brightly false childlike voice as she plopped herself down in the chair right across from the Slytherin who was currently stuck inside the body of a scruffy-haired Gryffindor.

Blaise Zabini shot the redhead a look that could curdle dairy, enhanced somewhat by the emerald green orbs of someone who had seen death twice and still survived. “Go. Away.” He ordered her warningly.

“Ah-ah,” The witch scolded with an annoying little wiggle of her finger in his face, as if Blaise was a small child who had done something wrong. “You’ll catch more flies with honey, you know.”

At this, the Italian wizard faltered. “I---excuse me?”

“It’s a muggle expression,” She explained, an amused smile playing on her cherry-pink lips. “Hermione taught me it. ’You can catch more files with honey than you can with vinegar’; it means that you’re more likely to get what you want with politeness than you are with hostility.”

Blaise stared at her blankly for a moment. “Right…” He said eventually, nodded his temporary head in a sort of tolerant way. “Honey is good, got it. And great as it is that you and Gran---Hermione are getting along so well, I really do need to concentrate on this, so if you could please leave me alone, that would be wonderful, yeah?”

The young Gryffindor frowned slightly. “What are you working on?” She asked, blue eyes darting this way and that throughout the busy common room. “You haven’t got any of Harry’s ---or your --- books out with you, and I don’t see Hermione or my brother anywhere.”

“The ‘dream team’ left for the library about an hour ago.” Blaise answered as he glared back down at the sheet of paper that he was supposed to fill with ideas of what his ‘wish’ might be.

“And you didn’t go with them?” The girl sounded surprised as she turned her eyes back on the body of Harry Potter. “I mean,” She went on when Harry’s shoulders tensed, giving her the impression that the Slytherin inside was about ready to snap at her again. “Staying up here in this noisy tower, instead of following them down to the quiet library when you need to concentrate; sure _seems_ a bit counterproductive to me.”

Blaise glared all the more at the blank parchment held in rough hands that did not belong to him. “It’s not schoolwork that I’m working on. This is something more… confidential.”

“Oh? Confidential in what way, exactly?” She asked him innocently.

Blaise _really_ didn’t like that tone. She sounded far too much like her older twin brothers’ used to when they had just found a new victim to test their latest invention on. “Just something that might help me to switch back to my rightful body.” He offered without looking away from the mockingly empty list. Sighing when he still felt the interested gaze of the redhead upon him, Blaise added, “Weasley, you _did_ hear me say ‘please’ when I asked you to leave me to it, yes?”

“Ginny.” She said almost too softly for Blaise’s ‘on loan’ ears to pick up. Blaise furrowed Potter’s dark brows when he glanced up to find the Weaslette not quite meeting his eyes.

“Come again?” He inquired slowly.

“Ginny,” She repeated, a bit louder. “If you can call Hermione and Ron by their names, you can most certainly grant me the same privilege. Besides, I’m just as close to Harry as they are and it’ll look strange if you keep calling me ‘Weasley’ all the time.”

“I---” For once, Blaise was actually glad he wasn’t in his own body as he was quite sure his mouth was draping open somewhat. “I… could just not call you anything at all, like I’ve been doing.” He suggested as soon as he got his mouth working again. “It’s not as if we really have to hang around each other all that much, must we?”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “Look, I’m not saying you have to like me or anything, I’m only requesting that you to treat me a tad friendlier. Dean and Neville are already getting suspicious as you practically ignored us all during dinner.”

“Listen, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your ‘Gryffindorish’ feelings, but I’m not Potter, and I don’t see how---“

“No, you’re not.” She agreed, cutting across him with the first real glare Blaise had ever seen from her since his first night in Gryffindor Tower. “But you are temporarily trapped in the body of him, and I’m trying to help you keep cover long enough for this thing to, as Hermione put it, be satisfied and switch you back. Now, I get that you’re a Slytherin, and this is all very hard for you to fully accept, but if you’ll just stop being a prat long enough to notice, I think you’ll find that this ‘Slytherin Vs Gryffindor’ thing isn’t nearly as big as you’re making it out to be.”

Taking in a deep breath, Weasley looked as if she wanted to say something more, but she just settled back into her chair, light blue eyes gazing into bright green as she continued to frown darkly.

“…Are you done?” Blaise asked after a long moment of silence.

Ginny glared a bit more at him before turning her attention to the fire burning brightly in hearth beside them. “Why must Slytherin’s always be so difficult?” She pondered aloud, not waiting on an answer as she pressed on, “You’ve done okay so far with Hermione, and my brother, but why is it so hard for you to just play along with the rest of us? I thought Slytherin’s were supposed to be great manipulators; sly, clever and cunning?”

Blaise raised an eyebrow that wasn’t his as he reluctantly admitted to himself that he was impressed. She was trying to sneakily manipulate _him_ by insinuating that he wasn’t living up to the characteristics of his own house, just so he might jump at the chance to prove her wrong by showing her how greatly he ‘fooled’ them all into thinking he was actually the Boy-Who-Lived.

It was far too easy to see through to her intentions, but he had to give her props for even attempting it. It was respectable.

“I’m not above using hexes to get you to see things my way, you know.” She tried instead when wizard had failed to respond to her first jab.

Blaise ‘not-so- stealthy’ dropped borrowed green eyes to check both her hands for a wand. He still remembered that day Professor Slughorn had announced her to that horrid ‘Slug Club’ of his, praising her for her talent with a certain Bat-Bogey hex.

She didn’t miss where his line-of-sight had ended up. “Don’t worry; I won’t cast anything unless I have to.” She said with light-hearted chuckle, lifting up her hands to show that they were empty. Blaise saw it for what it truly was: an upfront and direct warning as to what will happen should he somehow foil some sort of plan he’s not even sure he fully understands. No hidden risks or heavily veiled threats like a true Slytherin would make. Everything is blunt and straightforward.

 _How very Gryffindorish of her_ , Blaise mused silently to himself.

“Fine, I shall call you by your name around the others, if you so want.” Blaise acquiesced in the end, feeling it the safest option left open to him. He had played against Ginny Weasley enough times in quidditch to know that she could be almost as stubborn as Potter when it came to something she most wanted to achieve. “But Longbottom and--- what was it? Dean… Thomas, right? --- They are on their own. If you’re really worried about it, tell them Potter is sick, or has temporary amnesia or--- something ---Anything. Tell them whatever you like, however, don’t expect me to play nice with everyone just because your Golden Boy does.”

This must have been a good enough answer after all, because the redhead smiled up at him good-naturedly. “If that’s the best I’ll get from you tonight, I’ll take it. But I promise you, if you let your guard down long enough, you might find yourself enjoying the company we Lions have to offer.” She said with a wink.

Ducking his head so she wouldn’t see him laughing, Blaise murmured, “I highly doubt that,” before blinking green eyes down at blank paper, and remembering the whole reason he had been sitting out here in the lions den instead of hiding away in Potter’s bed in the first place.

The Weaselette rose to her feet and stretched. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say, _Harry_.” She teased, walking over to him.

For one frightening moment, Blaise thought she was going to make another endeavor to sit in his borrowed body’s lap, and crossed his legs tightly in a hope of forestalling any and all attempts, but she simply gave him a hesitant, tender hug that shocked Blaise more than an aim at lap-sitting would have.

“Thank you.” She whispered softly into his ear, before pulling away.

Blaise stared at her. “Fo---for what?” He asked. Potters’ voice coming out much higher and just as bewildered sounding as the Slytherin trapped inside actually felt.

She didn’t answer. Giving him another friendly smile, she made her way up the staircase that leads to the girls’ dormitories. It was then that Blaise took a good look around the room to find it almost completely empty say for a few older students still working on NEWT assignments.

Ruffling the soft, dark hair of his limited time Gryffindor body, Blaise returned his eyes to the parchment and debated the idea of really getting started on it in the morning instead. He decided it might be for the best as he was very tired and that talk with the She-Weas---Ginny, ---had taken longer than expected.

 _She really isn’t so bad_ , Blaise thought as he stifled a yawn and stood up, extending his borrowed arms above his head and arching his back in an attempt to relieve the sore, stiff muscles.

He could see why Potter was dating her. She was a Gryffindor, yes. But she also had a backbone, and a good sense of humor, and she certainly wasn’t dull… or even a scheming type of girl, like so many of the Slytherin’s. No, she was honest, and dedicated, and she made for a decent conversationalist.

 _And she has a moderate sense of style_ , Blaise thought as he idly swapped Potter’s passable clothing for a set of extremely questionable pajamas. _She is quite an attractive girl if comes down to it…_ _Striking features, red hair that is well taken care of, and a charming smile._

Happily slipping off Potter’s ghastly glasses and unceremoniously tossing them onto the nightstand by his bed, Blaise draws the hideously ‘red’ hangings of Potter’s four-poster; grateful for the dark blurriness as he lets the saviors’ too-green eyes slide shut, finding a steady rhythm in Finnigan’s snoring that reminds him somewhat of Gregory Goyle.

 _And she smells of something flowery_ , is Blaise’s final thought before sleep grips him tightly, pulling him into a dream world of flowers, blank pieces of parchment, and a light, tender hug that leaves the dark-skinned wizard feeling flustered and a just bit…

 

 

* * *

 

“Pansy, I can’t tell you anything if you won’t _sit down_.” Draco Malfoy bit out, when the dark-haired girl continued to pace back and forth before him in the 8 th year boys’ dorm room.

Her steps halting, the witch turned to frown at her friend. “Forgive me for being a bit worked up, Draco, however, you just told me that _the_ Harry Potterhas‘ _accidently_ ’ switched bodies with a Slytherin --- Blaise Zabini, no less!--- and I’m just finding all this a little hard to swallow at the moment.” From the way Draco was wrinkling his nose up at her, Pansy knew that she must be in more of a state than usual, but she was finding it hard to care at the moment. “Do you even know how it happened? Did Blaise swap them?”

“Pans---“

Pansy gasped, her eyes going wide. “Was it… it was Potter, wasn’t it?” She demanded in an alarmed sort of whisper.

Draco let out a low groan and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to drive off the headache threatening to take over. “ _Accident_ , Parkinson.” He stressed. “I did say accident. Which, normally, this would indicate that no one ‘swapped’ them.”

“Yes, you did say that but _come on_ , Malfoy, switching souls is something of legends and fables. It’s… well, it is _old magic_ , isn’t it? So how could---“

“Parkinson, I will not continue this conversation any further unless you take a damn seat and let me explain it.” Draco barked, irritation making him less patient than usual. “But if you wish to keep interrupting me, then there is the door. I wish you a pleasant evening.”

Pansy, scowling for all she was worth, nonetheless took a spot on Theo’s bed and gave him her undivided attention.

The blonde smiled apprehensively. “Right, then. You still remember what I said about this discussion never leaving this room, yes?”

“You wound me, Draco. You know that I would never---“ At Draco’s hard look, she broke off, flinching. “Yes, I understood. I will take this to my very _burial chamber_ if necessary.” She settled.

Draco really did smile this time. “It won’t be,” He reassured fondly. “Only… you remember Potions yesterday?”

“Not particularly,” She said slowly, a sheepish look creeping onto her face. “I was a bit…preoccupied that morning.”

Frowning, the blonde thought back to the class in question. “Come to think of it, didn’t you and that Gryffindor get a warning because you failed to turn in your potion?”

The sheepish look turned full-on guilty as the dark-haired girl bowed her head. “Yes,” She confirmed.

Raising one pale eyebrow, Draco tactfully didn’t comment further. “Well, do you at least recall Blaise and Potter getting into a dispute?”

“Yes… yes, I think I do. Someone got injured, right?”

Draco nodded. “Correct. Both of them, actually. See, Potter was,” He lowered to voice to mumble, “(as usual,)” under his breath before going on, “not paying any attention to what he was doing, and when Blaise tried to get Potter’s attention, the idiot jumped and cut them both with his knife.”

Pansy tightened her lips, trying to hold in her commentary and motioning for Draco to finish his story.

“Apparently,” Draco carried on with a sigh. “Potter was cutting a Bear Stone for the potion and when it got into their bloodstreams, it…well, it set off some kind of reaction, and here we are.”

“But that was silver Bear Stone,” She pointed out, dark brows knitting together as she thought. “Sliver Bear Stone isn’t toxic or even magically potent on its own, contrary to popular belief. So, unless Potter wasn’t using a sliver blade, then there wouldn’t have been anything for the stone to react to.”

 _Damn it_. It had momentarily slipped Draco’s mind how good a Potions’ student the girl was. Draco gave her a resigned nod of agreement. “It was probably the mix of blood, location, and eye contact that responded to the stone dust.”

Pansy froze, shoulder muscles tightening as she, very slowly, met Draco’s grey eyes with her own hazel ones. “Are you saying what… what I think you’re saying?” She inquired cryptically, looking around the empty common room with an edgy tension.

“I’m sure I don’t know what---“

“Draco, don’t you _dare_ lie to me!”

The pale wizard sniffed, affronted, but did not answer.

All the same, his silence was as good as a confirmation. They both knew it.

Pansy released a shaky breath. “I thought you said it was an accident?” She accused. Her voice had dropped down to nothing more than a whisper as she continued to sit atop the bed across from Malfoy’s, ridged and uneasy.

“It was,” Draco insisted.

The witch laughed, sounding almost hysterical as she lent forwards towards the blonde and hissed. “Binding union magic is _not_ something you just _do_ by fucking _accident!_ ”

“You think I don’t know that!” Draco thundered at her, losing his temper. “I grew up hearing the same stories you did, Pans. I _know_ what that type of magic does to a wizard. All I’m saying is Harry Potter, --- ignorant git that he is---had no idea what he was doing when he idiotically shoved his blood-covered hands over Zabini’s open wound, before starting up a staring contest with him for Merlin knows’ what reason. Gryffindor’s’ stupidity, I’d imagine.”

“Draco…” The hazel eyed witch stopped herself, looking uncertain for a moment more before she cautiously rose and made her over to sit next to the other Slytherin. “Draco, how can you be sure?” She asked anxiously.

Draco frowned deeply at the girl. “Be sure of what?”

“That Potter didn’t--- that Potter wasn’t aware of what he was doing when he… you know…” She gestured vaguely with her hands. “Did it.”

Feeling laughter bubbling up inside him at the thought, the blonde held it in, only letting his thin lips lift in a small smile as he put his arm around the girl. “Pansy, don’t be ridiculous. This is _Potter_ we are talking about.”

“I don’t have the tolerance for your absurd pettiness towards the man, Draco. _This_ is serious.” She snapped at him sternly, pulling away and giving the blonde man a solemn expression that made Draco raise both eyebrows, taken aback by her harsh tone. “I know Blaise well enough to know that, for all his talk, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to try his hand at such arts as binding unions --- assuming he actually had a sufficient amount of knowledge on the subject to be able to even attempt it ---, but Potter’s different. He survived the killing curse at least once, --- if not twice---, and he has shown himself to be a powerful wizard, even at the young age of fourteen when he won the Tri-wizard cup. How can you be sure that he isn’t---“

“Pansy, would you listen to yourself?!” Draco interjected, disbelievingly. He took in a deep breath. “Salazar’s sake, Pans. I haven’t heard you sound so grave since Witch Weekly printed that article claiming that ‘mauve’ was the new ‘in’.”

She didn’t even crack a smile.

Draco exhaled a bit more noisily than he meant too and shook his head. “Look, I get that this news has upset you, and I’m sorry. Truly, I am.” He added when she sent him a dubious glance. “But you’re talking about _the_ Harry Potter. The ‘Boy-Who-Lived’; Mr. Living embodiment of Godric Gryffindor and all he ---and his house--- stands for, himself. Harry Potter, defeater of Dark Lords’ since he was an infant. _Harry_ sodding _Potter_ , who wears his heart on his bloody sleeve and is brave, and noble, and kindhearted to a fault. Disgustingly so.”

For a long moment, Pansy looked at Draco with surprise. The last time Draco had said so many nice things about the Golden Boy in one conversation, it had been nearly a week after the Death Eater trials, and Draco had ranted on and on about how ‘perfectly gallant’ Potter was, and what his foolish ‘hero complex’ would end up doing to the savior, before he reluctantly mumbled something about how he should really thank Potter for his testimony.

At the time, Parkinson had laughed at the irony of Draco Malfoy considering seeking out his raven-haired rival, just to apologize for his ways and offer up his appreciation to the man. Now though, the girl narrowed her eyes in thought. This went deeper than simple gratitude to the Boy-Who-Lived. She was sure of at least that much.

Pansy stood up and brushed her dark hair behind her ear on her left side as she turned around to face the blonde. “He isn’t as ‘Red and Gold’ as you keep insisting he is, Draco. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m telling you, there is something so…” She paused, seemingly searching for the right words. “Just so… so _Slytherin_ about him, and I don’t like the fact that he just so _happened_ to be the first person who has ever created a union bond by misfortune. Something just isn’t right about all this and it’s made me uneasy.”

“Pans,” Draco started to say, not really knowing what he _could_ say to that, but it didn’t much matter as the dormitory room door was suddenly thrown open, startling both of the Slytherin’s and revealing a panicky and frazzled Harry Potter in Blaise Zabini’s body, who quickly slammed the door the moment he was inside.

Pansy and Draco both exchanged a look as neither of them had felt the wards they’d placed on the door break apart until after Potter had already shoved his way inside.

Wanting to escape the meaningful look that the dark-haired witch was now giving him, silently telling him that Potter’s ability to just push his way past their strongest wards was another sign of danger, Draco turned back to the body of his friend; Where Harry was leaning his borrowed forehead against the door and panting loudly.

The sound of loud banging on the door followed not seconds after Harry’s arrival, just before the unmistaken voice of Daphne Greengrass filtered in from beyond the thick wood. “Come now, Blaisey, sweetie. You can’t hide in there forever. I was promised a firm-handed punishment for my bad, _bad_ mouth and I can’t wait forever.”

Harry’s gulp was audible as he backed warily away from the closed entry, Harry’s wand held securely in Zabini’s dark hand.

There was a sulky huff from other side of the doorway. “Alright, fine. Have it your way. But I’m warning you now, Zabini. If you don’t man up by next weeks’ recreational time, then it’s going to be your sweet chocolate arse that’s getting whooped, got that?” And then there was the sound of her stomping away up the stairway with a moody grumble.

Harry’s sigh of relief was so long that Zabini’s dark shoulders seem to droop down three feet before Harry was content enough to turn around. When he did, his borrowed dark eyes landed on the two Slytherin’s and he stiffened again with a sharp intake of breath.

Draco was biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to hurt so as to keep from bursting out into laughter. However, it was all for not when Harry saw the evident signs of the blonde fighting off a smile, and glared at him.

Pansy sent her own glower at the cackling blonde, but he could make out the amusement sparkle in her eyes even through the tears clouding up his vision.

Harry let Zabini’s dark eyes shift between the two Slytherin’s for a moment before his glare broke and his face started to heat up with embarrassment. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Barking mad, that one.” He said over Draco’s hoots of glee.

That, it seemed, was too much for Parkinson to take and suddenly she was doubled over, clutching her sides as she chortled out, “Oh. M--my. God. Potter.” She wheezed out in between gasps for air, and laughter. “You should’ve see---seen your fa---face!”

At the use of his real name, Zabini’s dark features drained of what glow it had as Harry felt his stomach drop uncomfortably.

“Merlin, I wish I’d had a camera.” Draco sighed contently wiping his eyes free of moisture. “Blaise would never have forgiven me.”

Pansy sobered up quickly. “I should say not, as its Potter’s mortification, not Blaise’s.” She declared into the sudden silence now that the laughing had died away. “You’ll have to excuse me; I’ve some homework to finish. Goodnight, Draco.” She offered him one more significant look, before turning her eyes on Potter, cold and harsh as she bit out, “Potter,” And took her leave; brushing past him to get to the doorway, not even apologizing when he was knocked off balance in his hurry to move out of her way.

“Er---night,” He called after her as the door slammed shut. Harry glanced over at the blonde with an unexpectedly lost look. “What the hell did I ever do to her?” He asked, bemused.

Draco sneered at him, feeling more annoyed with Pansy than the Golden-Boy, but finding him an easier target than her at that moment. “You existed, Potter.” He said simply, curling himself onto his bed and reaching over for his potions’ book, if only for an excuse to not look at his friends’ body.

“Oh, is that all?” Harry found that he didn’t even have the energy to glare as he slumped his way over to Zabini’s bed, practically falling onto it with a weary sigh. _That Greengrass girl is something else altogether_ , Harry decided forlornly, just thankful that he’d managed to escape with his pants intact. “So… how much does she know?” Harry asked after a lengthy period of hush.

Draco frowned down at his potions book. He tried to work out what Harry had just asked, but his voice was simply too muffled by the pillows and Draco sighed as he set his book off to one side and pushed himself up, hanging his feet over the side of his bed.

“Pardon?” He inquired.

“I said, what does she know? How much did you tell her?” Harry repeated, also moving to sit up.

“Enough,” Draco said with finality, picking up his book again.

“How much is enough?” Harry pressed. “Clearly, she knows who I really am, but does she know about the bond---er---binder uni ---bindering ---uh… the potions incident… thing?”

Draco frowned again, but didn’t put away his book this time as he looked over at Zabini’s body, Harry’s guarded curiosity and apprehension shinning through Zabini’s dark eyes. “I told her what she needed to know--- perhaps even more than she needed--- but yes, she knows about the potions incident, ‘thing’. Not that it really changes much as tomorrow, Blaise will have a list full of ideas on what his wish might be, and it’s only a matter of completing everything on that list until you finally switch back.”

Harry hummed in thought at this. “I suppose,” He said after a few more moments of quiet. “But… you don’t think she’ll tell anyone else, do you?”

Draco unconsciously set his potions book aside once more as he took in the anxiety filled trepidation on Zabini’s borrowed face. “Why are you so concerned about anyone finding out about this, Potter? So what if the school learns you switched bodies with a Slytherin for a few days? It’s not as if it’s the end of the world… besides,” He added, leaning his back against his headboard once more. “I seem to recall you facing the end of the world and coming out on top already.”

Harry turned his temporary head away, dropping his eyes to look at Zabini’s large hands. “I’m not concerned, I just…” But he trailed away with a rough shake of the head. Slipping down from the comfortable four-poster, Harry wondered over to Blaise’s trunk, intent on getting out some sleepwear so he can catch an early night.

Draco watched him dig through the trunk with interest. Thinking back to what Harry had said about his wish; about wanting to be normal. He remembered Potter’s argumentative reaction to Granger encouragement that they all to go to the headmistress, and his blonde eyebrows knitted in contemplation.

 

_ “For just one day I wanted to be someone---anyone--- normal.”  _

_“Harry---“ _

_“Don’t, Hermione. Just… just don’t.” _

 

He hadn’t given it much thought at the time, distracted as he was with working out the bonds’ terms to really spare consideration for much else, but now…

“Isn’t there a faster way of getting through this bloody thing?” Zabini’s deep voice broke Draco away from his recollections of early. Harry was grumbling under his breath to himself as he hovered over the magical suitcase Blaise always kept his things in.

“Potter,” The blonde ventured with a careful kind of caution, knowing it is unwise to ask, but coming to the decision that not knowing would drive him ‘round the bend in the end. “What did you mean, before, when you said you just wished to be ‘normal’?”

Zabini’s spine straightened, his whole body going ridged as Harry paused in his search for proper clothes to sleep in. “What?” He questioned softly, Zabini’s tone taking on an abnormally high pitch to it. Draco didn’t think he imagined the threatening undertone to that single word.

“Back in that classroom on the forth floor,” He pressed on, holding back a sense of foreboding. “When I asked you what your wish was, you said---“

Draco cut his words short as the dormitory door was thrown open by a freshly showered Theodor Nott, and a gloomily looking Gregory Goyle, who only offered Draco a half smile before he went to collect his schoolbook-bag. _Ah_ , Draco thought with a dawning light of understanding. Greg must be working on homework, that’s why he looks so dismal.

The sight of the other Slytherin’s gave Harry the escape he needed and he quickly snatched up the shower bag he’d managed to at least retrieve from within the trunk before he stood up and quickly made his way out of the room.

“What’s the rush, Zabini?” Theo called after Harry, but the Gryffindor didn’t answer. He merely quickened his pace to the shower rooms; grateful for small getaway he was granted.

He knew that dodging Malfoy’s question would only work for as long as he was able to avoid him, but he’d take whatever he could get at this point. If he was lucky, maybe He and Zabini would switch back before the blonde Slytherin found the chance to interrogate him again. Or perhaps Malfoy would forget his question all together. But Harry doubted that.

“What’s’ the mat’ta with Zabini?” Goyle wonder aloud, turning a questioning look on the pale blonde, who was still resting against his four-poster headboard.

Draco just sighed and shook his head. The boy in his friends’ body had practically fled at the first possible moment. Sure, Draco knew that his prospects of actually getting a response to his question had been at an all-time low to begin with, but he had _hoped_ that, in some way, he had caught Potter off guard enough to cause the latter to profess his allegation’s towards wanting a day in the life of normality.

What _was_ normal for the Gryffindor, anyhow? Blaise’s life was a far cry from what Draco would consider ‘normal’, and not just because he has had more step-fathers’ than Draco’s mother had flowers in her gardens.

This thought alone left Draco with a few misgivings about the whole thing. What if Potter was wrong? What if he only thought his wish was a common day in the average life of a Hogwarts student? As far a Draco was concerned, ‘ordinary’ didn’t start off with waking up in the body of another individual.

Draco mulled over the idea of forcing Potter to write out his own ‘wish list’, (like Blaise was), just to be absolutely sure that they weren’t missing anything. It was a mildly good suggestion, Draco thought as he rose from his recline and began to gather his things for his bedtime routine. Draco even felt that Granger herself would approve of his proposal that they cover all their bases, which was a comforting thought, should Potter decide to start a row with him about it.

In any case, it would have to wait until the morning before Draco could bring it to either of the Gryffindor’s attention, as he was fairly confident that Potter would be evading him like the bloody _plague_ for the rest of the night.

Feeling a prickle of irritation at this, Draco huffed out one more disgruntled puff of air, before he strolled out of the boys’ dorms and in the direction of the perfects’ bathroom for a highly desirable hot bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Jeesh, this took longer to update than I would have liked. (I had to have YT to help me with this a lot because my own PC as decided to be stubborn lately.)
> 
> We’ve—YoursTruly and I--- have added a little convo between us at the very bottom of this if anyone would like to read that.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, your reviews are welcome! Thanks for reading and for all your lovely kudos. ^^ -KIAD.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> \--Conversation between KillerInADress and YoursTruly—
> 
>  
> 
> (Once more, I want to offer my apologies to YoursTruly. I know that you have taken every Sorting Hat quiz known to man, and wizard kind alike, in hopes of becoming Slytherin and always being Gryffindor, but just accept it; you’re too brave and noble for your own good.) –KIAD
> 
> [Hey! You promised. No gloating if you got sorted into Slytherin!] -YT
> 
> (Look, thank you for showing me to Pottermore and all, --and I know I said I wouldn’t gloat--, but let’s face it…you’re red and gold down to the very heart. You really are. Everyone else I know besides you have gotten at least one different house at least once, and as your friend, I think you should just accept it now.) -KIAD
> 
> [Yeah, O.k. And this is coming from the one who threw a fit because that quiz on Facebook put you in Hufflepuff--- a very respectable house. You know I have three of my closest friends in there!] –YT
> 
> (Respectable or not, I still do not belong amongst ‘touchy-feely’ people. Eugh.) -KIAD
> 
> [Don’t be rude. Not all of them are cuddly, just as not all Slytherin’s are evil.] -YT
> 
> (Okay, you have a point. Anyways, for anyone who cares, you can find me on Pottermore at: Rainstorm23739,
> 
> And YoursTruly is: DawnNettle3652,
> 
> She is grumpy about her house placement, but she means well. She just has this thing against the color gold, and she’s would’ve have been just as upset with the puffs too.) -KIAD
> 
> [Actually, Hufflepuff is YELLOW and black. Gold is a darker type of yellowish-bronze and I’m not a big fan of towers so being in the Hufflepuff basement would be preferable.] -YT
> 
> (What?! You sit at the very edge of high mountains and on roof-tops. Don’t try to tell me you are afraid of heights!) -KIAD
> 
> [It’s not the height, it’s the circular staircases, rounded rooms, and the fact that it’s probably crowded easily due to limited space, whereas the dungeons would have far more space . . . and corners . . .] -YT
> 
> (Ohhhh, I forgot about you and your ‘thing with corners’… tell you what, you stop whining about your noble Gryffindor-ness, and I’ll let you stay in my common room whenever you want, okay?) –KIAD
> 
> [ . . . ] -YT
> 
> (~impatiently taps foot~ Well?) -KIAD
> 
> [ . . . Fine. But I also want sleepovers down with the Slytherin’s too.] -YT
> 
> (You’re going to get me kicked out of my own house!) -KIAD
> 
> [Do we have a deal?] -YT
> 
> (Ugh, whatever. Just bring food before you come. Your awesome cooking skills may be the only thing that saves me from my own housemates.) -KIAD
> 
> [*Glares* Hey! I’m not a house-elf!] -YT
> 
> (~Smirks~ oh no, you’re much better than that. You’re a Gryffindor who is caring enough that even a Hufflepuff would get cavities around you. Remember the last time I so much as sneezed in your presence?) -KIAD
> 
> [. . . Point. *Sigh* Fine. I’ll bring treats . . . but you bring the butterbeer! And remember, I like the cold version.] -YT
> 
> (~Mumbles~ Bloody Gryffindors…) -KIAD
> 
> [*Smiles*] -YT


	8. It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Mr. H. Potter, currently residing in the Wizarding world of London; does not belong, nor is owned by fanfic addict, KIAD. He is, however, willing to put up with her incessant Drarry shipping needs so long as she promises to stop breaking into his home to steal all of his left socks.
> 
> There has been no word yet on if the writer has agreed to these terms. Stay tuned.
> 
>  
> 
> Written by: KillerInADress.
> 
> Special thanks to: YoursTruly. (The fact that she is also missing four of her left socks is merely a coincidence.)

**Chapter Eight: It Begins.**

* * *

-Last time,-

 

_ Draco huffed out one more disgruntled puff of air, before he strolled out of the boys’ dorms and in the direction of the perfects’ bathroom for a highly desirable hot bath  _

 

 

-And now...-

 

 

* * *

 

He would never get used to waking up centered in a room that felt as if it was made of ice, Harry decided, mildly fascinated by the way the dark hairs seemed to stand to attention on Zabini’s left arm when Harry lifted it out of the covers so he could pull back the hangings on Zabini’s slytherin four-poster.

The room was dimly lit by the various torches along the walls, but that really wasn’t all that surprising considering the dorms’ location and the simple fact the few windows looking into the black lake were seeing into far too much depth of the waters to make out any light that might be trickling in from above.

Unnerved by the quiet of the room around him, Harry lowered Zabini’s sock-covered feet to the stone floor with as much dawdling as he felt he could get away with and looked around. All of the other deep-green drapes of the Slytherin beds’ were left open, showing empty beds all made with fresh sheets by the house elves.

Panicking, Harry thrust the borrowed feet the last few inches to the glacial ground and letting out a small hiss at the unforgiving chill seeping in through the thick socks even as he pulled his wand free from underneath his pillow to summon his watch. He remembered halfway through the wand movement that he wasn’t himself, and that he had yet to see Zabini ever wear a wristwatch.

Feeling curious despite the unease pooling near the base of his spine at the thought of what time it might be; Harry restarted his spell, this time, summoning Zabini’s watch. Sure enough, out of the chest containing all of Zabini’s things; zoomed a large pocket watch with a shining gold chain. Harry caught the watch as it loomed near, feeling the smallest bit sluggish as Zabini’s body couldn’t move quite as quickly as Harry was used to his own arm moving when catching a snitch.

It felt… odd, to say the least. When one is used to ones’ body moving at a certain speed, one feels slightly wrong footed when the body they are briefly stuck in, isn’t even somewhat the same to their original one.

It was one of the main reasons Harry hated Polyjuice potion so much. Being in someone else’s body had draw backs as well as advantages.

Turning the pocket watch over in Zabini’s dark hand, Harry marveled at it. It seemed to be made of clear solid crystal, with a face of purest sapphire. Harry had seen some interesting clocks in his time --- Mrs. Weasley’s family clock, for example---, but the Gryffindor was amazed by the sheer elegance of the thing.

When Harry finally scanned the edges of the timepiece, he cursed. The dial held not numbers, planets, nor faces of loved ones; Harry found himself looking at odd shapes of what looked to be some kind of hieroglyphics. Sighing, Harry resigned himself to having to cast a tempus after all. He was hoping to avoid casting a tempus charm as the thing was always so brightly lit, and his magic was never at its finest first thing in the morning.

He might have been able to get away with guess work had the symbols been aligned on the outside of the circular piece like with the old muggle pocket watch his uncle Vernon had favored so often when they had dinner guests. Instead, the little signs and squiggles seem to cover the entire face of the watches’ surface while they slowly orbited each other; going over and under one another at various points that would certainly mean something to someone who could understand it all.

“ _Tempus Tellus_ ,” He breathed into the room, pointing his wand rather sharply into the air before he drew out the globular movements with two small taps at either end of the rapidly glowing sphere of luminous numbers, activating the location charm that would set the numbers into the right order for his time zone.

‘7:19’ said the obnoxiously dazzling clock hanging in midair before him. Harry frowned heavily and waved his wand in a reverse-spherical motion, dispelling his charm, and causing Zabini’s dark eyes to have to work on re-adjusting to the sudden gloom once more.

Now, Harry has never really been a morning person, but waking up to an empty dorm before it was even seven forty? That was just ridiculous.

“Slytherins,” Harry declared to the vacant room, as if it answered any and all questions.

Feeling a bit put-off by the mornings’ events so far, Harry was at least thankful for the new information he’d attained from his watch summoning as he turned his attention back to the trunk sitting innocently at the end of Zabini’s bed. Raising his wand, Harry smiled. “ _Accio_ school clothes!” He beckoned, happy that he would no longer have to kneel before the stupid chest and shift through shelve after shelve every time he wanted something.

Unfortunately, Harry now understood why Zabini had categorize everything as out of the trunk shot, not one set of standard Hogwarts attire, but the whole shelf labeled ‘School Clothes’ came barreling out with a loud gust of noise and air.

Ducking as quickly as Blaise’s tall, muscled body would allow him, Harry cursed zealously as the shelf --- clothes and all --- smacked into the stone wall behind him with a harsh sound of smashing wood.

Cautiously, Harry righted himself once more and gritted Zabini’s perfect teeth. “Excellent going, Harry. Really spectacular,” Rumbled Zabini’s deep voice, making Harry feel even worse than his own voice berating him would have. He sighed, and cast the strongest reparo he could muster so early in the morning.

Once he was satisfied with the restoration job on the wood compartments, Harry gathered the scattered garments. They didn’t have anything on them to indicate which day they belonged to, so Harry just picked out a set to wear for the day, and the rest --- along with the newly repaired shelf --- he put on the bed, hoping the house elves would know what to do with it.

Clutching his outfit in his other hand, Harry raised his wand once more and carefully called forth a light jumper, a pair of black loafers, (as Malfoy had called them), and Zabini’s school bag.

It was going to be a long day. Harry could feel it. “Thank heavens’ it’s Friday,” He muttered to himself as he slipped out into the hallway and up the stairs to the bathrooms. Fridays were wonderful. Harry only had two classes for the whole day and both of them were later in the afternoon, meaning he could relax in the morning and maybe take a nap or play chess with Ron just before lunch.

Except…

Harry frowned at the reflection of Blaise Zabini blinking back at him.

He was not Harry Potter, boy who only had two classes all day and who could easily play a game of chess with his best mate in the Gryffindor common rooms. He was Blaise Zabini for the foreseeable future, and Harry had no idea what type of schedule the Slytherin might run on.

Now that he was thinking of it, Harry made a hasty retreat back to the 8th years’ dormitory. After the embarrassing events of yesterday while following Malfoy around and hoping he was in all the same classes, Harry felt it the safest option to see if he couldn’t get some kind of class layout before he resigned himself to another humiliating day of that.

Especially since he still wanted to avoid the blonde as much as possible, in case more awkward questions were asked, when Harry really wasn’t sure he had the answers to give.

Praying that Zabini was the organized type, Harry raised his wand once he reached the end of Zabini’s four-poster, and summoned a timetable, agenda, and to-do list. To his surprise, all three of his summons produced a result. Two pieces of parchment flew out of the schoolbag hanging off his borrowed shoulder, while a small booklet flung itself haphazardly from the bedside table drawer.

Harry took a moment to look over all three items before deciding that the larger of the two parchments was the one that would be most useful to him. He tucked everything back into the bag containing his other school supplies, and finished getting ready before he made the slow and frigid course through the dungeons and out into the warmer Entrance Hall where many other students were lingering to talk or waiting on their friends to finish eating so they could join them in their walk to class.

The delicious smell wafting out of the Great Hall made Harry’s foreign stomach address its approval with a loud growl that turned the heads of a few students closest to him. Harry hoped his blush of discomfiture was masked by Zabini’s darkened skin.

Walking into the Great Hall, Harry glanced at the Gryffindor table, making eye contact with Ron, and Hermione, and giving the smallest of nods to his own body before he started his way over to the Slytherin table.

Goyle turned his attention away from his breakfast and waved him over the moment he saw Zabini’s body, causing the golden-haired girl sitting next to him to look up as well and making the Gryffindor-turned-Slytherin falter in his stride.

Daphne Greengrass appeared just as sophisticated and ladylike as she always had when Harry glimpsed her across the hall and in classrooms in the past. But now, he knew better. He knew what kind of girl she really was when others weren’t watching, and he certainly didn’t miss that small look of relish she shot him when their eyes met.

She licked her lips a little too slowly.

Harry shuddered. Blaise Zabini must be a very brave man to be able to date a woman like that, he decided.

A dark-haired girl sitting across from Goyle and Greengrass seemed to notice that their attention had aimed elsewhere, and she turned around to see what was so fascinating. Her hazel eyes spotted Harry. She graced him with narrowed eyes before she then turned around again, her back pointedly facing the savior.

Parkinson did not look inviting in the least, and after the way the morning has started, Harry really didn’t feel like he should push his luck with her so soon.

And he _really_ didn’t want to deal with the Greengrass girl after last nights’ unpleasant conversation.

He scanned the table for the shock of pale blonde hair that he knows so well, but Draco Malfoy wasn’t there. Feeling self-conscious just standing in the middle of the Great Hall, Harry quickly spots the only other 8th year at the house table, and swiftly sat off on the way over to him.

Theodore Nott is seated near the far end of the long table, closer to the teachers, and further away from the main student population. He’s holding a thick tome in one hand, and a spoonful of porridge held halfway to his mouth, in the other. He looks a bit like Hermione does when she insists she is behind on her reading, and it’s that thought Harry chooses to cling to as he takes one of the many empty seats beside him.

Nott doesn’t look away from the page of his book, but his tenses up considerably when Harry settles in. Harry waits, and when the Gryffindor realizes that there are no greetings forthcoming, he clears his temporary throat and smiles awkwardly at the Slytherin.

“Hi,” Harry offers.

Eyes widening in surprise, Nott turns his attention away from the book at last, letting his crystal blue orbs settle upon Harry’s borrowed body. “Hello…” He says slowly after a long moment of staring.

“Mind if I sit here?” Harry asked when he is suddenly struck by the feeling that he might have accidently overstepped some sort of line with the brunette. “Parkin---er, Pansy isn’t very pleased with me at the moment.” He added, running a nervous hand through Zabini’s short hair.

“I suppose,” Nott replied, watching Harry skeptically.

“Great, thanks.” Harry grinned and turned his attention the breakfast before him, picking out a few slices of toast and his favorite jam.

Theodore doesn’t say anything else, but he eventually turns his attention back to his tome, spoon of porridge now completely forgotten in the bowl of half eaten grey mush. They sit in silence for a while longer, Harry enjoying his plate of delicious food, and Nott watching him distrustfully from the corner of his eye.

When the awkwardness becomes too much to bare, Harry swallows, and tries for some friendly conversation. “So,” He starts, nodding his head towards the large book still held in the brunettes’ hands. “What have you got there?”

Nott frowns slightly. “ADM Astronomy: Science and Relativity to Space.” He enlightened, tilting one half of the book up just enough for Harry to make out the title.

“Really? That sounds… interesting.” Harry remarks lamely. It amuses him how much it feels like he is talking with Hermione, and Harry has to turn away so the Slytherin doesn’t see his smile and mistake it for him making fun. Zabini’s dark eyes land on the other three 8th year Slytherins, and Harry’s borrowed eyebrows furrow. Greg Goyle is gaping at him while Daphne Greengrass keeps looking over them, making Harry feel as if he has lost some sort of plot.

Parkinson is, (unsurprisingly), ignoring him still.

“Mm,” The man hums beside him.

Harry holds in a sigh and turns back to his meal partner, giving another go at a sociable exchange. “Are you taking astronomy this year? Is that why you’re reading it?” He presses.

Nott unhurriedly marks his place, closes the book, and bestows his full attention upon Harry with one eyebrow raised in a look that can only be described as disbelief. “Why are you here?” He demands.

Harry angles his head off to one side. “I told you. Parkinson and I aren’t getting along at the moment… and I thought you’d make for some pleasant company.” He added with another hopeful smile.

“What did you fight about?” The brunette inquires further.

Harry frowns down at a bit of uneaten toast. “Er---” He starts, but the answer is taken out of his hands when the voice of Draco Malfoy says calmly,

“Pansy is just upset that Blaise won’t give her his Transfiguration notes.”

Harry and Nott both spun in their seats to see the blonde standing right behind them. He waves a pale hand airily. “You know how she is. Now, you’ll have to excuse us, Theo. Blaise and I have some studying to attend to in the Library. Blaise,” Malfoy gestures for him to follow, and Harry turned back around to tell Nott his goodbyes when he sees the other man already rising to his feet, book and school bag in hand.

Draco notices too.

“Oh, it _is_ all right if I go with you, surely?” Nott asks innocently when he saw the silvery eyes narrow. “It’s just that I’m already headed that way myself, but if you’d rather I didn’t join you, then…” He trailed off.

Malfoy opened his mouth to answer, but Harry, (seeing a chance to keep from being alone with the blonde along enough for there to be any more questions), got there first. Rising from his seat with Zabini’s bag strap held tightly in Zabini’s large hands, Harry gave the taller slytherin a welcoming look. “Don’t mind him, of course you can. The more company, the better.” Harry declared brightly, shouldering Zabini’s bag and starting off for the Great Hall doors.

He wasn’t sure what Malfoy’s expression was --- exasperated, bewildered, irritated ---, but he didn’t look back to check. Not until they had reached one of the more unused hallways that was clear except for two of the Golden Trio, (plus Blaise in Harry’s body), who looked to also be on their way to the Library.

Harry felt like kicking himself. Hermione had probably cornered Malfoy and asked him to bring Harry up to the library so they could talk, and Harry had to go and ruin that by inviting Theodore Nott because he was afraid of spending even a few moments alone with Malfoy. So much for his Gryffindor courage…

Turning around at the sound of the two Slytherin’s and one Gryffindor in disguise, Hermione nudged Ron who, in turn, caught Blaise’s attention.

The six students came to a halt in the middle of the corridor.

“Morning Granger, Weasley, Potter.” Theo nodded his greetings to the heroes of the Wizarding world, inadvertently snapping sharp green eyes away from their meaningful look into smoldering grey.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Blaise demanded, pointing Potter’s finger accusingly at the tall brunette when he took notice of Theo for the first time.

Most everyone else turned to Potter’s body, taken aback looks marking their faces while Draco just sighed.

Theo always believed that Harry Potter didn’t have any problems with him, and as for him, he didn’t particularly dislike Potter, despite Nott senior being sent to Azkaban after the fall of Voldemort. His father may have been a death eater, but Theo never took part in anything involving the war, and he had never taunted or gone out of his way to inconvenience any of the Gryffindor’s. On the contrary, Theodore Nott was known for liking the peaceful, quiet life.

And as far as Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew, Blaise and Theo were fellow Slytherin’s who got along just fine.

“I invited him.” Harry snapped incredulously to his own body. “What’d he ever do to you?”

If anything, Zabini’s voice defending him seemed to confuse Theo even more.

Blaise looked down right furious now. “He---“

“Yes, _Potter_.” Draco jumped in hastily, sending Potter’s body a sharp look. “What has Theo done to upset you?”

“You---oh,” Blaise paused and looked down at Potter’s hands. He seemed catch on that Theo didn’t yet know who was really in Potter’s body. The pause didn’t last, however, and in seconds, Potter’s green orbs were flashing dangerously. “Well, he’s a slytherin. Isn’t that all that is needed for a Gryffindor like me?” He challenged darkly.

Hermione’s look of disapproval, and Theo’s expression, (caught somewhere between horrified and disgusted at the words), was nothing to the cold hard _stare_ Harry was now giving his own body. “If you were a true Gryffindor, you’d know that it doesn’t work like that.”

Blaise gave a rude noise of doubt, but it was Draco who spoke up next. “Back off, Potter.” He warned. “This isn’t your fight.” And although he kept his eyes trained on Potter’s body, Harry had the feeling the words were directed towards the real him.

“Like hell it isn’t!” Harry rounded on the blonde.

Blaise took Harry’s distraction as an opportunity to advance, getting into his face so he could glare into his own dark eyes. “And if _you_ were a _true Gryffindor_ ,” He said lowly. Ominously. “Then maybe _you’d_ do something about the damage they do to the innocent snakes.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry demanded, returning the glare with his own borrowed one. He spared one fleeting thought to how weird it was to see his own green eyes gazing up at him with rage.

“I’m talking about the ‘Courageous and Righteous’ Gryffindor’s _bullying_ the younger Slytherin’s merely because they are sorted into a house they don’t like!” Blaise spat. “And seeing as you’re such an expert, _Zabini_ , why don’t you tell me exactly where ‘discrimination’ lands on that little ‘Brave and Noble’ scale of yours?”

The silence was heavy and Harry actually took a step backwards. His face held a sneer that Harry was sure he’d never had on his face before. “Wh—what?” He managed, looking to Hermione for help.

But Hermione and Ron were looking just as stunned as Harry felt.

“Tch, Typical. Don’t try to tell me you, ‘didn’t know’,” The sneer dropped in size when Blaise saw the perturbed bemusement on his own face. “You really _didn’t_ know, did you?” He asked, genuine curiosity creeping into Potter’s voice.

Harry suddenly found solid ground when anger rose within him. “If I had, do you really think I would have just sat back and _watched it happen?_ ” He snapped.

Theo, who had been silently watching their exchange with interest, started to chuckle under his breath. “Great Lady Morgana,” He breathed out into the airy corridor. Everyone was watching him in hushed astonishment. “You two---” He tried to say, but broke out into more laughter. When he finally regained control and straightened back up, he went on. “Oh, Merlin, _You two,_ ” He repeated, pointing a finger between Blaise in Potter’s body, and Harry in Zabini’s body. “Somehow managed to switch bodies, right?” Theo began to laugh once more. “That is just brilliant!”

Harry and Blaise both looked at each other, wide-eyed, before remembering their earlier dispute and hurriedly looking away.

“How did you---“ Ron started to ask, but Theo just shook his head.

“Potter’s always been quick to jump to defense, where as Zabini has never been known for his heroism.” He explained. Blaise sent Theo a glare. But neither Hermione, nor Draco looked vastly surprised that Theo had figured it out.

Theo went on with a grin. “Truth be told, I should have known that when you asked to sit beside me during Breakfast, you weren’t the real Blaise Zabini.”

Potter’s green eyes looked about ready to pop out of his skull. “You sat beside that _thing_? In public, no less?” He cried in outrage.

Harry looked sheepish for all of a single second. “Well how was I to know that you two weren’t friends? I’ve never seen you so much as disagree with each other _once_ since we were eleven!”

Blaise scuffed. “That’s because some people are civilized enough to know what should and shouldn’t be kept private. Not everyone goes around hexing each other in the corridors like you and Draco.”

“Excuse me?” Draco hissed icily. “I am not some ‘uncouth’ Gryffindor, Zabini, I ---“

“You lost the right to any argument when you allowed this entity anywhere near my person.” Blaise returned, gesturing towards Theo and looking completely unfazed by Draco’s glower.

Theo cleared his throat, and whatever retort Draco was about to make was lost as the tall brunette said loudly, “As entertaining as this has all been, I was actually planning to make it to the library before my first class, so I must bid you all a fair well. Draco, Potter, Granger, Weasley…Zabini.” He nodded to each, winked at Blaise, and then brushed past the group to continue down a hallway that was hardly ever used.

All of their voices seemed to follow the taller Slytherin around the corner as now the group of five was thrown in a tense silence.

Hermione was the first to break through it. “Zabin---Blaise,” Hermione corrected herself promptly before rushing on ahead, “Did you honestly mean what you said about the Gryffindor’s picking on Slytherin’s? Have you witnessed it happen?”

Blaise turned to face the bushy-haired witch, a hard mask covering Potter’s face. “I meant every word of it, Granger. And if you don’t believe me, you can ask any of the other Slytherin’s.”

Draco bowed his head solemnly when Hermione turned her brown eyes upon him. “Some of the first and second years have been coming to the upper year students with their fears because Slughorn has yet to do anything about it.” He confirmed.

Harry looked between his best friends. “I take it you two didn’t know either, huh?”

Ron and Hermione shook their heads. “You know we would’ve put a stop to it if we’d known, mate.” Ron reassured.

Draco gave him a sharp look. “Would you have, Weasel? Even if it involved hexing stinking Slytherin’s?”

Ron’s ears went pink. “Don’t call me that, Ferret. And yeah, I may not like Slytherin’s much, but I don’t think an entire house should have to suffer just because of what some of you lot did.”

Harry felt pride blooming in Zabini’s dark chest. Ron certainly had grown up a lot over the years, and judging by Hermione’s smile, she felt so too. “We didn’t know,” She said firmly. “But now that we do, we can do something about it.”

Harry nodded fervently. “There has been enough fighting for one life time. Why can’t people just get over their differences and move on?”

Blaise gave both Harry and Draco searching looks. “Can you two get over your differences and move on?” He asked seriously.

“Already have,” Harry answered instantly while Draco said slowly,

“I expect we could, yes.”

Silvery eyes met chocolaty. “What do you mean you ‘already have’?”

Harry frowned. “Haven’t you?” He asked, stunned. “I thought… well you know, I thought we settled everything when I spoke for you and your mum at your trials?”

“Settled what?” Demanded Draco. “You gave your side of things, accepted my graduate and returned my wand, via, owlpost, and then you utterly ignored me until you’re suddenly in my best friends’ body!”

“I didn’t ignore you!” Harry exclaimed, flabbergasted. “I merely figured that you wouldn’t ever want to talk to me again, seeing as how we hated each other for seven years and all. Then, when we do finally talk for the first time in almost a year, you act like a bloody prat!”

“I acted like a prat?! You tried to draw Blaise’s wand when you first saw me!”

“I had just woken up in---“

Blaise and Ron watched this shouting match in bewildered amusement. On the one side, it was entertaining to see Zabini and Malfoy fight, Ron thought.

While on the other, Blaise was appalled to note that his neck darkened when he was angry, and that Harry Potter mistreated his hair almost as badly as he mistreated his own mop of jet black mess. Subtly, Blaise sent a hair styling charm at his own head, effectively righting all the wrong two and half days in Potter’s crummy hands had damaged.

This spell went unnoticed by the two squabbling ex-rivals.

Hermione just observed the two boys thoughtfully. She contemplated their body language more than she focused on their words, and after watching Draco lifted a hand, as if to touch Zabini’s body but thinking better of it at the last moment and putting it down again or motioning with it instead; multiple times, she did have to wonder if it was only because Blaise was his friend, or if it was because of the soul inside said friends’ body.

“Za---Blaise,” She murmured in a low tone that went unnoticed by all except Potter’s body beside her.

Potter’s eyes snapped to hers shamefully. “Look, I just couldn’t take it anymore. That’s the last hair charm today, I promise.” He rambled off, guilty at having been caught by the same girl who had yelled at him that morning for taking up so much time trying to spell Potter’s hair into submission.

Hermione blinked. Then she blinked again and her auburn eyes sifted over the Zabini’s hair before she cracked a smiled. “Actually, that wasn’t what I wanted to talk about.” She said, amused. “I was only going to ask you if Malfoy is the touchy sort?”

Blaise made a face that was so reminiscent of the same one Harry always made when Hermione talked about snogging Ron, that Hermione let out a small, stifled giggle. “Touchy?” Blaise repeated the word, sounding like it was stuck in his throat. “Do you mean, is he the sensitive type?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, I mean, does he often touch people. You know, like when you’re talking, does he like to lay a hand on your arm, or touch shoulders when you sit by each other in the Great Hall?”

“No. Draco isn’t really of a ‘touchy’ nature, I guess... he won’t shy away from it, but it’s pretty rare that he’ll be the one to engage it.”

Hermione hummed thoughtfully.

“And furthermore, I don’t think sixth year should even count as--- hey! Where are you going?”

Harry’s abrupt turn on his heel caught the attention of Hermione and Blaise, bringing them back to the other three. “Left something the dorms, I’ll see you later.” Harry shouted over his shoulder as he half ran down the hallway.

The remaining four stood still for a long moment before Draco cursed and started after him.

“Where are you going, then?” Blaise called after Draco’s retreating form.

“He’ll miss class if he just sits in the common room and sulks all day.” Draco answered, walking away at a more normal pace.

At least comforted by the fact that Draco wouldn’t let Potter completely ruin his reputation before the weekend, Blaise turned around to see Ron looking dumbfounded, and Hermione looking, if only slightly less, amazed. “What?” He demanded of them.

Hermione snapped out of her astonishment with a jump. Weasley just blinked twice. “Nothing,” She replied hastily, grabbing a hold of her boyfriends’ arm. “Nothing. We’d better hurry; I still have that transfiguration homework to finish.”

That brought Ron back to earth. “ _Hermione,_ ” He said in disbelief. “We just got that homework _yesterday!_ ”

“Exactly, that means we only have through the weekend left to finish it!” And she dragged him in the direction of the library, Blaise following unhurriedly behind.

 

* * *

Harry was headed for the dungeons, feeling the light headedness growing rapidly. His stomach gave a particularly violent lurch, and Harry was forced to change his course for the nearest bathroom before he lost his breakfast all over the Entrance Hall.

The sickness had struck rather suddenly. One moment, he was telling Malfoy off for being a total git, and the next he was so sure that he’d be sick right there, all over Malfoy and his pointy, expensive shoes, that Harry had clapped a hand to mouth, unintentionally allowing Malfoy to believe that he’d finally got the upper hand.

“It’s probably his fault I’m feeling so nauseous.” Harry grumbled to himself, kneeling beside the lavatory toilet and scowling. “His fowl words making my stomach turn.”

One thing was for sure, no matter how bad being sick in your own body was, throwing up while you were in someone else’s was far worse.

After a few more spirited attempts by Zabini’s body to make Harry puke Zabini’s guts out, Harry felt well enough to push away and rest his aching back against the cool stall wall. Harry felt the weak, shaky sensation one always get after ones’ body tries to turn itself inside out, and it didn’t leave him feeling any better about his sudden sick spell.

He’d never had food poisoning from the food here at Hogwarts, (never known anyone else who had, either, if he thought about it), and normally he got a fever a day or two before his belly would decide to take revenge on him. But he did wonder if perhaps Zabini’s body worked differently than his? Maybe Zabini dealt with the sick first, and the fever later.

Harry didn’t like that option any better than he liked his own body’s way of working through it, but he figured that, either way, a trip down to Madam Pomfrey really wasn’t necessary. It was, in all probability, just your average stomach bug, and he would just deal with it like he did every other time he got sick. At least there wasn’t any coughing.

“Yet,” Harry added under his breath, feeling drained. He put out a hand to grab the toilet lid to help him up, but even moving his arm was causing the world to spin at an alarming rate. He let Zabini’s limb fall back to his side, eyelids heavy.

He shouldn’t sleep here, on the floor of the first floor boys’ restroom, he knew that. But he was suddenly so comfortable, and the stall wall was so cooling against his skin, and it just felt so nice to rest his eyes.

“Maybe I do have a fever,” He mumbled, voice slurring slightly as the world turned, and his tummy churned, and his head spun. Everything was just moving so fast and Harry had no chance of stopping it, so he closed his eyes.

It felt like seconds; like he’d merely blinked before he was being so rudely awoken by a wailing Moaning Myrtle. Harry groaned, and she screamed at him for the better part of Harry getting to his feet and cleaning himself up as best he could. When she finally felt upset enough with his lack of response to dive head first through the sinks, shriek unbearably as she went, Harry sighed with relief and looked at the mirror. Zabini’s face looked back at him; eyes dull and skin a sickly greenish hue. But despite that, the small nap Harry had been granted had done him a world of good and he was feeling better than he had since the moment he had woken up that morning.

Cross checking the time against Zabini’s class schedule to make sure he wasn’t late for anything; Harry collected Zabini’s things and took off for the school grounds, eager to get some sunshine in hopes that it would wash away the last of the chill still circling in his borrowed bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: I do have to apologize. This is my most hated chapter so far, (for whatever reason), and I found that even trying to reread though it annoyed me greatly, so I’ve handed the final read through over to YT because I just couldn’t take it and I was eager post for Daniel Radcliffe's birthday! Woo! 
> 
> (And to start on chapter 9).
> 
>  
> 
> I do hope it reads better for you all than it did for me.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyways, your reviews are welcome! Thanks for reading and for all your lovely kudos. ^^ -KIAD.


	9. Homework, Notes, and Classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: “KIAD has returned all the left socks previously taken from Mr. H. Potter, --whom she does not own--, after a very expressive howler, and she will no longer be breaking in to, and/or stealing from famous people. She is very sorry.”  
> (This letter of apology was NOT written by the writer herself, who was last seen being dragged forcefully away from her collection of socks, kicking and screaming.)
> 
> Written by: KillerInADress. (I’ve gotten 69 kudos on this story! *wink, wink* Lol, I’m such a child.)
> 
> Special thanks to: YoursTruly. (The brilliant mind behind all but two of KIAD's amazingly colorful disclaimers. Including, but not limited to, her most recent 'apology letter'; and who may not be a co-Author to this story for much longer. We will all miss her greatly if-- and when-- she leaves us.)

**Chapter Nine: Homework, Notes, and Classes.**

* * *

  
-Last time,-

_Harry_ _collected Zabini’s things_ _and took off_ _for the school grounds, eager to get_ _into some sunshine_ _in_ _hopes_ _that_ _it_ _would_ _wash_ _away_ _the_ _last_ _of_ _the_ _chill_ _still_ _circling_ _in_ _his_ _borrowed_ _bones._

 

-And now...-

 

* * *

 

Not that Draco was about to admit it in front of his fellow Slytherin’s, on their trek up to lessons, but he was starting to get worried. Where the hell had Potter run off to, anyway? The blonde had looked for The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Swap-Bodies-With-Blaise everywhere he could think to look, and if Potter didn’t reappear before Charms class, Draco swore to himself that he was going to hex Potter bald the moment Potter was back in the right skin.

  
Pansy’s gentle touch to his elbow refocused Draco’s attention to his surroundings, allowing him to quickly side step a poor third year he’d been seconds from crashing into. Draco offered Pansy a small dip of the head, indicating his gratitude.

  
“Is there something on your mind?” She asked him, leaning in close so no one but Draco could hear her. “Something to do with Potter, perchance? I’ve noticed his long absence from your side after leaving with you this morning at breakfast.”

  
She had an air of false impassiveness about her and tempted as he was to just brush her off, the blonde knew that the storm she’d rain down upon him at being outright ignored would far outweigh her possible anger that he’d let Potter out of his sight. Still, he wasn’t very eager to offer up his real perturbed thoughts unless he had too, so he took a glance at her from the corner of his eye, judging her reaction as he offered her something else to ponder.

  
“No, not Potter,” He replied, slowly. “I received an interesting letter from mother this morning, and I hadn’t realized I was acting so noticeably distracted. My apologies.”

  
Pansy’s probing gaze shifted almost instantly into a look of anxious caution. Well, that was one crisis averted, Draco thought.

  
“Oh? It was good news, I hope,” She hedged warily.

  
Draco nodded. “Indeed, it was. Mother seems to find it somewhat… lonely, at the man – at home. She had planned to go traveling, but her sister owled her yesterday and now she is thinking that she may stay until after the Christmas holidays.”

  
“Her sister?” Pansy asked, taken aback. “But I thought—“

  
“So had I, however, it would seem that she’s not.” Draco said sharply. Effectively cutting her off as the Charms classroom loomed dangerously near them.

  
Walking into the classroom, the amount of relief Draco felt at seeing Potter – in Blaise’s body – sitting at a desk, left him feeling a little dazed. The feeling did not last, though, and within seconds, Draco remembered Potter disappearing act and felt his annoyance return full force.

  
“Where the hell have you been?” Draco snapped. He took the empty seat on Potter’s left, leaving Pansy to make a noise of exasperation and take a seat at the desk behind them with Millicent Bulstrode.

  
Harry looked up in surprise. What had he possibly done to upset the blonde _now?_

  
“Err…” The Gryffindor began cautiously. “I took a walk around the lake,” Harry tried to make sure he was using a tone he hoped was passive enough to delay anymore irritation. His walk around the lake had left him feeling drained of all the energy the little nap had granted him. “Why?”

  
Draco floundered. “You—I went all the way down to the dorms, just to make sure you made it class on time, and you weren’t there.” The blonde’s voice turned a bit sulky as he added, “Honestly, if I’d known that you weren’t _actually_ going back to the common room when you said you were, then I wouldn’t have bothered.”

  
“Really?”

  
Draco narrowed his sharp grey eyes. Potter sounded as if even the _idea_ of Draco being nice was impossible.

  
“Yes, _really.”_ He retorted coldly. “I may have had my fun yesterday, but do you honestly think I would just let you~--, in Blaise’s body --, continue missing classes? I’m not that horrible of a friend, whatever you may think.”

The way he drew out the O in “you” before quickly adding the part about Blaise’s body made Harry feel as if he was going to say something completely different, but changed his mind half-way through. Harry tossed this thought into the back of his mind to explore later, and instead drew out Zabini’s class schedule from his pack to show Malfoy.

  
“Err… right. Well, I actually found Zabini’s class timetable so I won’t be missing anymore classes. Erm…” Harry shifted uncomfortable for a moment before he met Draco’s grey eyes with his chocolately ones. “Thank you. For, you know—going all the way to the dorms to get me. That was very…decent of you, Malfoy.”

  
The pale wizard stuck his nose up into the air with a haughty glint in his silvery orbs. “Of course it was very decent of me, you git. In fact, I’m an incredibly generous guy, in case you haven’t noticed—“ Harry snorted. Draco glared. “But if you keep calling me Malfoy, Potter, then I swear I won’t —“ In the end, whatever Draco would or wouldn’t do was anyone’s guess as it was at that moment that Professor Flitwick walked into the classroom, calling for silence.

  
Class started out straightforwardly enough, but Harry couldn’t quite concentrate. His eyes felt heavy and the raven-haired teen thought longingly of that nap on the bathroom floor as he struggled to keep his vision from spinning while he charmed the wood of his chair to different colors and styles. He had thought that he might attempt to find his friends on his next break but the longer the class seemed to drag on, the more Harry decided that perhaps he should take another catnap instead; one in an actual bed.

  
Harry had just fought off an exceptionally big yawn, and currently wondering if this lesson would _ever_ end when the Professor finally released them. The wizard trapped inside an Italian Slytherin’s skin, found his optimistic hopes for a nice snooze crushed in the form a pale blonde Slytherin, who grabbed onto Zabini’s robe sleeve the moment Harry tried to make an escape to the dungeons.

  
“Where do you think you’re going?” Draco interrogated while half dragging Harry in the direction of the forth floor.

  
“The commons?” Harry replied, relatively hopeful. “I’m feeling a bit worn-out, actually, and I was thinking about taking a small---“

  
“No. I don’t think so. See, thanks to your little ‘disappearing act’ this morning, we never made it to the library to discuss Blaise’s wish list, and unless you plan on staying in his body for the foreseeable future, I’d suggest we just get this over and done with.”

  
Harry was half tempted to say that he was _already_ trapped as the Slytherin for the foreseeable future, but he opted for a sigh instead. “Right, okay.”

  
At the complete lack of argument, Draco chanced a glance at Potter in his friends’ body. He certainly did look ‘a bit worn-out’. The pale wizard mulled it over for a moment. Perhaps the Gryffindor hadn’t been sleeping well… He _did_ just accidently bond himself with another student that caused their bodies to switch. Draco thought that was a fairly adequate reason for anyone to miss a little sleep.

  
The two-thirds of the golden trio, plus ‘a Slytherin in disguise’ hadn’t yet made it to the library when Draco and Harry walked in, so the two boys found a convent little table near enough to the back that was out of earshot from the surrounding study tables, but still visible from the library entrance.

  
Draco took a good look at his friends’ body. There was a greenish hue to the chocolately skin. Pale eyebrows furrowed. “You look a tad… ill.” He informed the Gryffindor in Slytherin robes.

  
Harry closed Zabini’s darks eyes, willing away his whirling vision and fatigue. “’M just tired.” He mumbled in response. He could feel a headache coming on and the last thing he needed on top of his weary body, and dizzy spells, was a pounding head.

  
Before Draco could say anything else, the library doors opened and in walked Hermione Granger, and what looked to be Harry Potter on the outside, but whom Draco and Harry both knew to be Blaise Zabini.

  
Green eyes darkened slightly when they landed on Zabini’s own body. “You look unwell,” He said the moment he was seated at their table. “What’s wrong with you?”

  
Harry resisted the urge to glare as he repeated for what must have been the fourth time since leaving Charms class. “I’m just feeling a little drowsy; it’s nothing to worry about.”

  
Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly but the other two boys seemed to accept this answer so she let it go for now, and instead, moved on to more important matters. “All right, well, seeing as how Ron’s busy with helping out Ginny and the team on their new strategy, I guess it’s just us. Blaise, have you brought your list with you?”

  
Potter’s cheeks tinted a rosy color as Blaise confessed, “I haven’t exactly—well—written anything on it yet.”

  
Three pairs of eyes landed on Potter’s body in disbelief.

  
“Wha-? Why not?” Demanded Harry.

  
Blaise swallowed, and Draco had to force himself not to watch as Potter’s Adam’s apple bobbed because of it. “It’s not for lacking of trying.” He explained defensively. “I just honestly couldn’t think of anything I could possibly wish for that would put me in Potter’s body.”

  
“Didn’t we all agree that the body swap was Harry’s doing?” Granger asked with a frown.

  
“See, I thought about it and if it really was him, we should’ve switched back after his day of being normal, right?” Blaise countered.

  
“You know,” Draco intervened quickly, sensing Granger’s denial forth coming and willing to stall it until she’d really thought it through. Truth be told, the blonde was feeling rather grateful that the weasel was busy, considering how the blonde was sure the hot-headed red head would protest what he was about to say, and Draco felt that he really couldn’t handle more than one idiot Gryffindor fighting with him over his proposal. ”I’ve been thinking about that myself, and I was going to suggest the idea that Potter also write out a list of his own wishes, just in case he wasn’t exactly correct on which wish the bond attached itself to.”

  
The other three students were quiet for a moment, and Draco was pleasantly surprised to see that Potter was actually considering it, instead of immediately jumping right into a quarrel over the suggestion.

  
Then again, after all his complaints, perhaps Potter was merely too sleepy to be bothered to fight him on it. Either way, Draco was not about to look a gift Thestral in the mouth.

  
“That is actually a very good idea, Malfoy.” Hermione praised; her approval evident within her auburn orbs. “Harry?” She asked, turning that golden stare upon the taller male.

  
“Huh? Oh, yeah. That sounds fine.” Harry answered, his tone a touch unfocused.

  
“Great.” Blaise grumbled out sarcastically. “Now we’ll have twice the amount of wishes to go through. Hurray for that.”

  
“We are just trying to be thorough, Zabini. It’s not as if you’ve given us anything to work with hitherto, at any rate.” Draco hissed out darkly. He knew he shouldn’t be, but he was upset; he couldn’t help feeling as if Blaise wasn’t even making an effort. And the longer Potter was in his best friends’ body, the further Draco was going to be pushed on the edge of his already frazzled nerves.

  
“That’s not fair, Malfoy.” Harry said with a grimace. “Zabini may be finding his list a little bit more difficult to make than he originally thought, but it’s not as if he is doing this on purpose…your not, are you?” Harry added, turning borrowed dark eyes upon his own body.

  
“Of course not! I want my body back as soon as possible!” Blaise exclaimed, scowling.

  
Draco huffed. “Fine. Brilliant. I have class to get to so if we are done here,” he didn’t wait for an answer before the blonde stood and left the library in a brisk walk, his back and shoulders straight as a rod.

  
There was a moment of tense silence before Blaise finally bowed his temporary head and muttered a hurried, “Thank you, Potter.”

Harry blinked in surprise. “For what?”

  
Bright green eyes lifted to stare incredulously into confused chocolate. “For speaking up and taking the burnt of Draco’s anger.”

  
Harry blinked again. “Oh…why wouldn’t I?” He wondered in sincere bewilderment. “You said you weren’t intentionally trying to make it problematic, and I felt like you didn’t deserve the treatment you were getting. You’re probably already stressed enough about it as it is, without Malfoy’s poor temper making it worse.”

  
Blaise’s looked flabbergasted. Perhaps Slytherin’s don’t stick up for each other, Harry mused to himself silently.

  
Hermione whispered something suspiciously like, _“Boys,”_ to herself before she stood up and gathered her school bag. “Well, I should probably be heading to class myself, soon.” She announced with an encouraging smile. “Blaise, this time, just write down anything and everything you can think of. Don’t worry about if it would or wouldn’t account for the body swapping, and Harry, you do the same, alright?”

  
Both boys nodded their heads to signal their understanding. Blaise had just reached for Potter’s school bag when Harry put out a dark borrowed hand to stall him.

  
“Hold it, Zabini; can we talk for a moment? Just us, ‘Mione. Sorry.” He added quickly when the Gryffindor girl had started to take her seat again. She raised her eyebrows, take aback, but bobbed her head in agreement nonetheless.

  
“Alright,” She said slowly. “I’ll just be outside, then.” And she left for the double doors leading out into the hallway beyond.

  
They watched her retreat until the doors slid closed. Then Blaise turned Potter’s body to face his own and frowned. “What did you want to talk about, Potter?”

  
“You would you mind if we…switched our homework?” Harry asked, fighting down the urge to yawn. Man, he was tired.

  
“Switch homework?” Blaise repeated with a frown.

  
“Yeah, like,” Harry grabbed Zabini’s school bag and pulled out his notes of his classes as Zabini, along with the assigned essays and readings. “Swap our notes and assignments so we are still doing our own work? It’s just…all throughout your Ancient Runes lesson, I hadn’t the faintest clue what was going on, and I feel as if you might end up with a Troll grade if I had to do the essay for it, myself.” He frowned down at his messy pile of papers and added, “I’m afraid I’ve never been a very good note taker, but I did try to get down all the important bits like book chapters we read from, and any finer points that the teachers pointed out to the class.”

  
Blaise finally dawned upon comprehension about Potter’s intentions, and after a disdainful glance at the disorganized collection of parchment being held out in his direction, he took it all gingerly, and then pulled free his own record from the last few days of lessons as a Gryffindor. “I agree that we should definitely do our own work, and as much as I appreciate the endeavor, you might want to ask Draco or Pansy for their notes whenever possible. At least they have handwriting I can read.”

  
Ask Pansy Parkinson for class notes? Harry snorted. Yeah, that’s not happening anytime soon. “Err, fair enough. Sorry about that, by the way. Hermione’s always telling me that I need to practice my handwriting more because it can get pretty bad over break. I don’t really do much writing outside of school, you see… unless it’s a letter.”

  
“Mmm,” Blaise hummed, busy sorting through the bits and pieces of paper, searching for anything that looked legible.

  
Harry watched his own green eyes scan word after word for a moment before he awkwardly cleared his throat. He didn’t really want to get into details about the Slytherin’s relationships, but if he could find a way of getting Daphne Greengrass to back off, then he’d just have to do it.

“Erm—Zabini?” Harry said, getting the attention back from his body swap partner. “I don’t really want to, uh... pry, or anything. But is it possible that I could ask Miss Greengrass to take a break from your relationship?” Harry asked, adding quickly when Blaise looked like was about to say something. “Just until we get back into our rightful bodies, of course. Then you can—what?” He demanded, when a deep chuckle rose within his own body’s’ throat.

  
“You think I would ever willingly date that foul-mouthed princess-wanna-be?” He continued to chortle for a moment, clearly amused by the assumption while Harry just stared at him, his dark brows drawn down into a furrow.

  
“But she—she tried to...” Harry felt his cheeks heat and he paused, searching for the right way to say it. “She came onto me.” He decided on.

  
“She comes onto everyone.” Blaise dismissed with a wave of Potter’s hand.

  
“But she seemed to be very…er, _intimate_ with your body.” He mumbled, dark cheeks now positively burning.

  
“Like I said, she tries to bed anyone within arms’ length. God, my cheeks look dark when I blush—wait, why _are_ you blushing, Potter? It’s just a bit of lustful flirting. Surely you’ve—…oh.”

  
Now both of them were blushing.

  
Harry cleared Zabini’s throat and suddenly, he regretted bringing up the topic to start with. “Right, so…you aren’t dating her?” He clarified

“Right. We aren’t dating.” Blaise affirmed.

  
“Are you, erm, seeing anyone else that I should know about?”

  
“Nope.”

  
“Right. Good. Well, uh, not—not good if you wanted to—if you fancy someone that…I—I’d better get to, uh…yeah.” Harry stumbled out, lamely. He quickly shoved Zabini’s class notes from Harry’s real classes, into his bag, and practically ran out of the library, stopping only to say a goodbye to Hermione in the hallway before he rushed out of sight towards the second floor.

  
Hermione looked up from searching her school bag, muttered a confused goodbye to Harry as the Slytherin’s body practically tore down the hallway as if he was being chased by a fan group. Eyebrows knitted together, the young witch turned on her heel to see Harry Potter’s body standing behind her, watching Harry’s retreat with an amused glint to his eyes.

  
Hermione had seen that glint too many times in the past to know it wasn’t a good thing. “What did you two talk about?” She demanded from the Slytherin in her friends’ body.

  
Bliase simply shrugged Potter’s shoulders. “He just wanted to switch out our homework so we had the proper one for our real classes, and then he stumbled out something about going somewhere and just took off.”

  
Hermione narrowed her eyes slightly. He was keeping something from her, she could feel it. “And that’s it?”

  
Blaise chose to ignore her question, and smiled at her instead. “So, where to now, Hermione?” Blaise asks the brunette innocently.

  
Hermione sighed and returned to searching her bag. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” She huffed out grumpily. “Harry has another free period until lunch, anyways, so I guess you can do whatever. I’m off to Ancient Runes if only I can find my runes essays…you know what, I think I left it on my bed table from when I was proof-reading it last night. I’ll see you at lunch, Blaise.” And Hermione sent him a wave as she rushed off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

  
Blaise, now suddenly finding himself with even more free time, felt that perhaps he should head down to the Quidditch field. If he is lucky, he might even be in time to see enough of the teams’ strategy points that he could then tell the Slytherin house team of Gryffindor’s weak points when he is back in his own body.

  
_If_ he gets back into his own body before their first match, that is.

  
Taking off for the grounds, he stole a few glances out of the large windows lining the Hogwarts corridors, filling the castle with plenty of light and warmth.

  
It looked like it was a perfect day for flying, and Blaise caught a glimpse here and there of the Quidditch pitch, and eight people on their broomsticks.

  
Blaise hadn’t been very surprised to hear that ‘8th years’ were not allowed to be on house teams, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t miss the good old days when he had been a Chaser for Slytherin. He saw a flash of red hair headed from the goal post and had to bite down on a smile. He remembered playing against Ginny Weasley. She was a good player who was not to be messed with unless you had a backup Chaser or Beater ready to defend you should you chose to take the Quaffle from her.

  
She was captain of the team now, right? Blaise wondered to himself, pausing at a window that had a particularly good view of the team. Since Potter couldn’t play this year, she seemed the likely runner up.

  
And she was good, Blaise had to admit. He watched for a moment longer before moving on once again. The team looked to be on last drills now, but he might still be able to catch the last of it if he hurried. And hurry he did. He may be in a Gryffindor’s body for the time being, but he wasn’t about to miss the chance of a life time to spy on the Gryffindor team and maybe relay vital information to the Slytherin team, successfully securing the house cup for them that year.

  
Some might call it cheating, but Blaise Zabini decided to look at it as making use of all the utensils in his possession to help his own house to victory. Who said Slytherin’s didn’t employ teamwork? And really, Blaise reasoned, it was the Gryffindor’s fault for practicing all their plays out in the open, where anyone could see them.

  
Perhaps all those nicely toned muscles along his borrowed skin were really there because it’s host had taken extra care to get and keep them, Blaise decided, as by the time the Slytherin had actually reached the pitch, he had to marvel at how fit Potter’s body really seemed to be. He was barely winded and he had run a fair bit of the way down from the castle.

  
Of course, it was all for not, it seemed, as the entire of the Gryffindor team, and Ron Weasley, were all walking off towards the showers, laughing and talking animatedly as Gryffindor’s tend to do…which is to say: loudly, and with some kind of roughhousing amongst each other at all times.

  
Well…almost the entire team.

  
Ginny Weasley, the only girl to have made the team this year, and Quidditch captain for Gryffindor; was still floating high above Blaise’s borrowed head as she completed a set of drills that Blaise recognized as Seeker drills. Blaise frowned. Wasn’t the redhead a Chaser?

  
The Slytherin wasn’t given a chance to wonder for long when the very redhead in question suddenly turned her double loop into a heart-stopping dive, heading right for spot of grass where Blaise Zabini stood, wearing Potter’s skin.

  
Blaise jumped back with a shout and Ginny pulled out of her dive with enough room left to slow her pace and land safely two feet from the Italian wizard. Blaise scowled. “What the hell was that, Weasley?” He barked at her.

  
The redhead merely smiled, tossing her broom carelessly on her right shoulder, looking as if her split second freefall hadn’t been dangerously risky.

  
Potter’s vivid eyes narrowed a touch more in displeasure.

  
Ginny sighed. “Oh, come off it. It was barely a small nose-dive.” She pulled out her wand, summoning a red ball and another broomstick. Not that the other student took any notice.

  
_Small?!_ Blaise inwardly scoffed. He wasn’t a bad flier, having been on the Slytherin house team since his second year, but that drop had to be around a hundred and fifty feet. At least! “A bloody reckless dive, if you ask me.”

  
“Like I haven’t seen you pull similar maneuvers during a game before.”

  
“Yes, during games. And only when _absolutely_ necessary! Not during practices, just to ‘show off’.”

  
“I wasn’t showing off.” Ginny said hotly, looking offended. “I was only going to see if you wanted to play a game of Chaser verses Chaser with me, but if you feel as if you can’t stand the heat…” She shrugged, and all of a sudden, Blaise spotted the extra broom in her hands, which she was extending towards him for him to take.

  
Now, he wasn’t exactly proud of it, but the Slytherin frowned; borrowed eyebrows furrowing slightly as the words took an extraordinarily long time to work their way through Blaise’s baffled brain. When he did finally reach a moment of understanding, he gaped.

  
“You want to play against me? The two of us?”

  
“What’s the matter, Zabini?” Ginny baited, blinking up at him in fake innocence. “Not afraid of a little competition, are you?

  
It wasn’t so much the taunt as it was the glint of challenge in those blue eyes that made Blaise reach out and take the offered broom without a word of protest.

  
If nothing else, he had missed flying and any excuse to get back up into the air couldn’t really be a bad thing.

  
The two flew up level with the goal posts on either side of the pitch, and then Ginny tossed the large red ball into the air. Blaise squared his shoulders, ready to catch it on the downfall when the young witch took off without warning, grabbing hold of the ball and pelting off towards the golden hoops on the left side of the field.

  
“HEY!” Blaise bellowed after her, Potter’s voice echoing slightly back to him from the empty watchers’ stands around the pitch. “That’s cheating, Weasley! Get back here!”

  
“You’ll have to catch me first!” The girl shouted back over her shoulder, not evening slowing in her pace. Blaise swore he could hear her laugh, and that kicked the Slytherin’s instincts into action. Speeding down the field in a blur, Blaise lopped twice over the witch’s head, pulling down just in front of her so she was thrown off course.

  
In that violent jerk of motion to avoid the collision, Ginny was forced to release the ball and free her hands to grip her broom so she could regain control, and Blaise smirked in triumph as he dived after his prize. He was a Slytherin after all. He knew how to play a little dirty to get exactly was he wants.

  
Unfortunately, the girl seemed to have recovered quickly as Blaise hadn’t even taken a hand off his broom to grab the ball when he heard a whoosh from beside him, followed by a chuckle.

  
“You’re not bad. But you’re no Harry Potter.” Ginny teased lightly, snatching the Quaffle from the air while Blaise stopped short, spluttered indigently.

  
Apparently, Slytherin’s were not the only ones who knew how to play dirty, Blaise thought. He was _grudgingly_ impressed.

  
“I beg your pardon? I happen to be ten times the flier Potter is.” He sniffed. He was feeling rather justified in his declaration moments later when, after quickly matching speed with the girl, he managed to block the goal she had been aiming for.

  
Despite the fact that Blaise had just insulted a boy who, (for all he knew), was the girls’ boyfriend and hero; Ginny simply laughed and told him to, “prove it!”, before she took off once more with the bright red ball.

  
Blaise felt the irrepressible urge to smile, so he did. It felt good to be in the air again. He’d missed it. And the little game he was playing with the younger Gryffindor was leaving him with a light, freeing sensation that had nothing to do with the broomstick currently held tightly between his thighs while he plucked the Quaffle from its journey for, yet another, golden goal post. He took off for the opposite side of the field, ball held tightly to his side and a redhead hot on his heels, and in the back of his mind, Blaise felt like he’d never been quite so at peace with the world as he was right at that moment.

  
Then the ball was being snatched away from by a smirking Gryffindor, and Blaise gave all his focus to the game around him. This game was important. He just didn’t know why yet.

  
And maybe he never would know why. But as he watched Ginny Weasley—finally managing to duck under him and score her first goal— who was all beaming smiles and flowing red hair, Blaise found that he wouldn’t so much mind not knowing. If only to see that dazzling smile again.

* * *

 

 _Thank **Merlin!**_ Harry thought to himself, raising his arms above his borrowed head and giving the Slytherin’s body a good stretch. He had just begun to wonder if Professor Sinistra had truly intended to keep them past lunch, just to see the way Mars was rotating oddly this time of year.

  
When, at long last, she had—unwillingly—released them, Harry had almost been unable to suppress his smile of elation. He was positive that if he’d had to sit there with his daylight scope and charts for another minute, he’d have fallen asleep… and possibly even fallen off the astronomy tower altogether, seeing as how the tower contains no railing or safety guard.

  
Harry yawned, hiding it as much as he possibly could behind Zabini’s large hands. He forced his eyes to remind open just a little longer. He was steadily going from a drowsy fatigue, too down right exhaustion and weariness.

  
Of course, leaning about the placement of the stars in the middle of afternoons was not helping his already fuzzy ‘sleep-deficient’ brain.

  
Harry was just so thankful that it was lunchtime. He knew he should probably eat, (especially taking into account the fact that he had expelled all of his breakfast into the toilet of the first floor boys’ restroom), but he was yarning for nap, and he could always run to the kitchens just before his final class of the day, which, luckily, takes place after mealtime.

  
Harry, too busy trying to stay awake long enough to get back to the dorms, hadn’t paid any mind to a single word Draco Malfoy had said to him until the blonde in question grabbed him by the arm in the Entrance Hall, and pulled him towards the dinning hall instead of the dungeons which Harry longed so very much to be headed for.

  
“It’s lunch time, you dunce. We eat in the Great Hall, in case you’d forgotten.”

  
Harry couldn’t quite suppress his noise of desperation to just get to a bed and get some sleep. “I’m not hungry.” He tried, struggling to tug Zabini’s arm from the blonde’s clutches. “And I really am quite sapped. I’m just going to go—“

  
“Absolutely not.” Draco said darkly. “You want to starve yourself? Fine. Be my guest. But do it in your _own_ body.”

  
Damn it! Why did Malfoy have to remind him that it was another student who would suffer the effects, not himself? Fighting back a sigh of defeat, Harry shut his mouth and allowed himself to be dragged in through the large double doors. He reasoned that it was _possible_ he felt so tired because Zabini’s body needed food for energy. Promising himself that he’d asked the Slytherin currently in Harry’s body next time he saw him, Harry took a seat at the long Slytherin table.

  
The cuisine looked as wonderful as always, many different dishes set out along the great expanse of the dinning table for the many students to enjoy. But for Harry Potter, just the very sight of the food was making him nauseous, and the warm aroma of delicious smells were penetrating his nostrils, somehow, causing his already pounding headache to grow in size and pain.

  
The Gryffindor cursed himself for not putting up a bigger fight. Clearly, the food was doing him more damage than good, and he hadn’t even had a bite of it yet.

  
Draco, half way through chewing up a piece of his chicken, noticed that Potter hadn’t so much as touched anything. In fact, Zabini’s large hand extended and, as Draco watched him with a frown, Potter slowly pushed his golden plate far from him, chocolately eyes staring in repulsion at a platter of egg sandwiches.

  
There was a queasy look on his friends’ dark face and Draco’s frown deepened. “Eat,” He urged the Gryffindor, reaching out and pulling the golden dish back towards him. He lowered his voiced to a whisper. “It won’t do you _or_ Blaise any favors if you go around, skipping meals.”

  
“I feel sick.” The other boy mumbled.

  
Draco waved away the excuse, snagging a few sausages and depositing them upon the dish in front of his friends’ body. “You’re just hungry. Eat and you’ll feel better.” He added a cheese sandwich and a small amount of pasta salad after a moment of thought, remembering how often he’d seen the Gryffindor eating those items from his own house table across the Great Hall.

  
Of course, he’s little show of ‘mothering’ what looked to be a fellow Slytherin did not go unnoticed. The blonde head snapped up at the sound of a snort from across the table.

  
“Why, Draco, I hadn’t the faintest idea you cared so much.” Theodore Nott teased. “Is this nurturing for all of us? Or are you reserving this specialty for Zabini, only?” When his pale blue gaze met Draco’s grey one head on, the boy instantly knew that Theo’s ribbing had nothing to do with his moment of caring, and all to do with the wizard actually _in_ Zabini’s body.

  
Draco narrowed his eyes in challenge. “Well, Nott, I’m feeling especially accommodating today, so I really must insist you eat more meat; you’re looking much too thin these days.”

  
Draco smirked darkly when the chicken leg landed perfectly atop Theo’s salad, ruining the tall Slytherin’s vegan meal and causing the other man to glower. “You know I am a vegetarian, Draco.” He hissed.

  
“Oh, are you?” Draco asked innocently. “It must have slipped my mind. Well, let me just help you then,” And Draco took out his wand, vanishing not only the chicken leg, but the entire contents of Theo’s lunch, which usually took Theo a good five minutes just to collect everything he wanted in his salad at lunch.

  
Draco smiled sweetly. “There. All fixed.”

  
Theodore Nott was staring daggers at Draco, but the blonde hardly noticed as he turned back to Potter. Potter’s plate of food was still sitting in front of him, untouched, while Potter himself was leaning precariously back in his seat, looking as if he might bolt at any moment.

  
Draco snapped. “Seriously, Blaise, just eat!”

  
Potter jumped and gave Draco a startled look. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead, tightened his lips and swallowed thickly.

  
“Why aren’t you eatin’, ‘Bini?” Asked a full-mouthed Gregory Goyle from three seats down to Harry’s left.

  
More out of the need for everyone to just leave him alone than because he was actually feeling any less unwell, Harry speared one of the sausages on the end of his fork and bit into it. He chewed it for a moment, and when Zabini’s stomach didn’t immediately rebel, Harry swallowed and quickly took another bite. Only now realizing how very ravenous he was.

  
Greg, seeing Harry eat, looked confusedly at Draco as if wondering why Malfoy would claim Zabini wasn’t eating when it appeared that he was.

  
Draco, however, shook his head at his friend and looked smugly down at his own plate when he finally returned attention to his own lunch.

  
Pansy Parkinson made her way into the Great Hall, two Ravenclaws and a Gryffindor at her side. She muttered a farewell to the three students before they all separated to have lunch at their house tables. Draco frowned as his silver eyes followed the Gryffindor boys’ journey to the table of the lions.

  
He’d seen Pansy hanging out with him a lot since the start of term. “Hey, Potter, who’s that kid?” Draco questioned, elbowing Zabini’s side to get Harry’s attention. “The one sitting down beside that Patil girl you took to that bloody ball in forth year, do you see him?”

  
Harry looked up, borrowed eyes searching the long table and vaguely wondering how in the world _Malfoy,_ of all people, had remembered who he’d taken as a date to the Yule Ball. “Er…yeah, that’s Timothy Aimes, he’s in Gin’s year, I think.” Harry answered, finally locating the sandy-haired boy. “Why?”

  
“I’ve just seen him around Pansy a lot lately, it’s been—Pans, darling,” Draco broke off into a polite smile, gesturing to the empty seat on the other side of him. “I was starting to fear you’d miss the pudding.”

  
Pansy narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know what it was exactly that you were talking about before I came up, but I can tell it was about me, so spill.”

  
The blonde offered her a small smirk as she took the seat on his right and pretended Harry wasn’t there, on Draco’s other side while she filled her plate with an assortment of greens. “It was about nothing, really,” He said, shaking off her suspicious look. “So, I see you’ve made some knew friends.”

  
Pansy’s hazel eyes darting to the Gryffindor table, instead of the Ravenclaw table, is what gave her away.

  
“I was talking about those two Ravenclaw’s,” Draco added, enjoying the different emotions passing through the girls’ eyes. “I already know you’ve been hanging around with—what was it? Timothy?— for a while now.”

  
“How did you—“But Parkinson cut herself off with a sharp glare at Draco, who was smirking widely at her. She had just finished gathering up her plate and school things, ready to move to a new seat far away from the infuriating man when her eyes spied a peculiar sight. “Draco, is Zabini still…not ‘Zabini’?” She asked in a cryptic whisper.

  
“Yes. Why?”

  
“Look,” She was pointing toward the Great Hall doors, where Ginny Weasley was standing next to Blaise Zabini in Harry Potter’s body. They were laughing about something, and the way Blaise looked at the redhead using Potter’s green eyes made Draco want to snap his spoon in half.

  
_“What is he doing?!”_ He hissed darkly.

  
“Who?” Harry piped up, abandoning pushing the remainder of his food around on his plate in lieu of locating the source of Malfoy’s infuriation.

When he spotted what looked to be himself and Ginny taking seats next to each other and discussing something that looked to be Quidditch related, judging by their wind-swept look, He smiled, somewhat lazily. “They must be getting along then. Ginny had said something about trying to be friendlier with him. I’m glad it worked out alright.”

  
Draco spluttered. “Glad it—she what?” He demanded.

  
Harry didn’t bother to answer, though. Eating had made him, if possible, even more tired and he hoped he still had time enough time left for a quick nap. Maybe if he set an alarm for a few minutes before class started?

  
Lucky for him, Parkinson chose that moment to get into a discussion with Malfoy about how great a thing it was to see Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s getting along, and using Malfoy’s distraction to his advantage, Harry pushed his plate away form him and stretched.

  
Standing up and gathering his bag, Harry started for the large oak doors leading out into the Entrance Hall. He didn’t notice the student following him until Theo stopped him from entering the dungeon hallway off the Entrance Hall. Harry held in a growl of frustration with difficulty. “Zabini has ‘Advanced Healing and Wand Lore’ for his next class on Fridays, and as I’m in it with him, I can show you the way to it, if you’d like.” He offered with a polite nod to the grand stair case leading to the upper floors.

  
Harry was truly beginning to believe that the universe was out to get him as Zabini’s weary limbs seemed to sag in protest to even the prospect of climbing any number of stairs. Harry shook his head carefully, trying not to worsen the headache that still had not diminished since the library incident. “No. Thank you, but I can find it on my own, thanks. And I have something else I wish to do first.”

  
“Alright,” Theo said, and left. Harry felt relief flood him so strongly, that he was dizzy all over again. Finally! Someone was going to let him catch a break.

  
Or so he thought. However, it was not to be as by the time he made it to the common room, his dizzy relief had turned into a stomach churning wooziness that once again brought Harry to his knees in front of the nearest toilet.

  
Disgusted as he was, it was nothing to the feeling he felt when his sick spell had come to an end, and he had lain on the floor, sweaty, his throat raw; only to glance at the time and realize that he was five minutes late to Zabini’s next class.

  
Cursing and grumbling, Harry entertained the idea of just skipping it altogether, but in the end he cast a few quick cleaning charms upon his borrowed body and, reluctantly, took out his map to find the room of Zabini’s blasted lesson.

  
When he did finally find the right classroom, he was a whole fifteen minutes late. Fortunately for the Gryffindor, it seemed as if Theo had left the stool beside him empty for Harry, and Harry whispered his sincere thanks to Theo, along with his apologies to the teacher as he took the seat gratefully.

  
“You’re late,” Theo commented casually, eyes scanning the text of his schoolbook.

  
“Yeah, sorry, I had to—I lost track of the time.”

  
“Hmm,” Was all of the response he received.

  
They didn’t say another word all lesson, and try as he might, Harry just couldn’t keep his eyes open. His temporary head started to droop, and the professor’s words were flowing around the Gryffindor like some kind of educational ‘lullaby’.

  
“It wasn’t until late 1823 that it was discovered Red Oak reacted dangerously when paired with unicorn tail, and as a result, all healing spells that were cast with a wand of that particular combination would manufacture virtually the completely opposite outcome. This was a big part of the epidemic organ failure that hit the Wizarding nation in…”

  
Harry was very nearly asleep when he leaned forwards too far and jerked back to consciousness. Frustrated with himself, he pulled out some parchment, figuring that if he wrote out notes for Zabini, it might keep him awake long enough for this class to end.

  
Harry leaned over his desk, getting comfortable, quill poised to write out notes but he suddenly realized he hadn’t the faintest idea what the teacher was even saying. He looked up and tried to listen to what was being said—really, he did. But his borrowed dark eyes began to droop again, and before he knew it, Zabini’s cheek was resting against the cool desk, and sleep was pulling him into its dark clutches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: Guess who’s back?!  
> *ducks quickly to avoid being hit in the face with a pillow*, Whoa, whoa! Really guys, that’s just rude. I wasn’t gone that long --- *Jumps over chair, avoiding another thrown pillow*, Okay! Okay! I disappeared on you guys, and I apologize. But, really, I’m sure you didn’t--- *throws arms above head to protect it from the on slaughter of pillows.*  
> …  
> *Cautiously looks up*, is…is that it? Am I forgiven now? *readers glare* Oh, uhm…*gulp* I guess not. Well, I truly am sorry for my long absence, and I regretfully must tell you all that I-- *ducks another pillow*, Wait! Listen! I promise I am not abandoning this story! Promise! ... However, I’m going to be moving here very soon and it will most likely be a long while before the next update. I really am sorry that I’m leaving again after such a long time of being away, and I will try to update as soon as possible. Thank you ALL for your continued patience and love for my story, and I hope you will stick with me to the very end. ^^  
> As always, your reviews are most welcome! Thanks for reading. ^^ -KIAD.


	10. Impervius; Revelio; Horribllis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Once upon a time, Harry Potter took a bite out of a bright green apple while he was sitting with his friends in the Great Hall… And Draco Malfoy lost his mind! He jumped over three tables and then attacked Harry’s mouth in a hungry kiss, right there in the middle of breakfast.
> 
> Hogwarts was never quite the same after that morning.
> 
>  
> 
> Written by: KillerInADress.
> 
>  
> 
> Special thanks to: YoursTruly.

**Chapter Ten: Impervius; Revelio; Horribllis.**   
  


* * *

  
  
-Last time,-  
  
   
  
 _Harry looked up and tried to listen to what was being said—really, he did. But his borrowed dark eyes began to droop again, and before he knew it, Zabini’s cheek was resting against the cool desk, and sleep was pulling him into its dark clutches._  
  
   
  
-And now...-  
  


* * *

  
  
   
  


“ _Potter… Potter? …_ P o t t e r !”

Blearily, Harry opened his eyes. His neck felt stiff, his back was most definitely sore, and whoever was calling out his name while shaking his shoulder roughly was just making it all the worse!

Then Harry remember who—and where—he was, and he bolted up right on the stool, left side of his borrowed cheek burning from where the warm skin had been ripped from its desperate cling the solid wood of the desk for so long.

“Shit—what happened?” Harry asked at once, sleepy dark eyes scanning the room to see it empty apart from himself and Theodore Nott.

“You fell asleep halfway through Healer Penniforth’s lesson.” Theo informed him, frowning. “It’s lucky for you that he got called away back to Saint Mungo’s last minute, or else you might have gotten detention, along with losing Slytherin who knows how many points—Morgana’s black grimoire, Potter. I’ve been trying to wake you for the last seven minutes; I thought you might’ve died.”

“I fell asleep?” Harry repeated weakly. His headache didn’t hurt quite as much anymore, but napping in class had left him feeling tremendously disoriented.

Theo nodded in confirmation, reaching over to the other side of his desk to pull apart two pieces of long parchment. “He assigned us an essay before he left, and I was asked to make sure you received yours. “

Harry took the paper gingerly. He couldn’t remember anything. What had the teacher talked about? He felt sick once more, but he couldn’t be sure if it was due to his disorientation, or another stomach rebellion that meant he should be finding the nearest toilet.

Blinking rapidly, Harry settled his gaze upon his unfamiliar desk top, eyes landing on the open bottle of ink with a quill sticking out of it. Suddenly, he remembered his gallant effort at note taking and feeling a spark of hopefulness, he lunged for the paper atop the desk, only to fall back with a groan. He’d written down all of two numbers before he’d apparently given into slumber.

Beside him, Theo had just finished putting his own notes into his book bag, and was now giving Zabini’s body a quizzical look. Harry sent the other teens’ bag a longing look, thinking of all those wonderful, hand-written notes that would probably be more detailed than anything his might’ve taken down, as Nott probably understood most of what was said in this class, having been taking it for longer than just today.

All of a sudden, Harry got an idea. “Err, Nott? Would you mind if I copied down your notes? I promised to take notes for Zabini in all of his classes, and I…well…” He trailed off, waving a hand vaguely, as if to explain away his sleeping in class without actually saying anything.

Nott shot him a strange look and Harry had the sudden urge to hit himself. Why would Nott want to help him? Or even Zabini, to that extent? The two certainly weren’t as friendly as Harry had first believed.

“Never mind. Forget I even—“

 

“Potter,” Nott cut him off him, blue eyes filled with assessment. Assessment of what, Harry hadn’t the faintest idea. “As much as I would enjoy seeing Zabini receive a failing mark—and I wouldn’t normally defend sleeping in class—but you look damn well like you needed it, and I do feel as if it would be wrong to a fellow Slytherin to leave him hanging… even if it is Zabini. Come on, then. You can copy my notes while I do some research in the library.”

The Gryffindor tried not to smile when Nott’s scolding sounded so similar to something Hermione would have said, and he found it to be rather easy to suppress when he was equally attempting to not let out a jaw-breaking yawn. With a nod, Harry collected Zabini’s things. “Thank you.” He expressed earnestly.

“Oh, this isn’t exactly a benevolent charity, Potter. You _will_ owe me some kind of reimbursement.” Theo elucidate bluntly. Standing to leave, he added, “Just try not to make a habit of it, Scar Head.”, with a haughty smirk and an almost flawless imitation of Draco Malfoy’s bored drawl.

This time, Harry did smile.

As they made their slow trek down towards the forth floor, Harry found his disorientation starting to wear off, and the ever present fatigue starting to settle back in. It was infuriating how it kept returning. Why did he feel so bloody tired?

In an effort to distract himself, Harry turned his thoughts away from weariness and back to his companion. “What is Zabini’s problem with you anyway?” He wondered aloud.

Theo, caught off guard by the sudden question, took a moment to consider answering before he shook his head. “I’m not sure.” He lied.

“So you mean he doesn’t like you and you’ve never been curious as to why?” Harry asked in surprise. If someone had disliked _him_ so much, he’d have wanted to know why. At least Malfoy was honest about why he was being such a git.

“It wasn’t all that important, really.” Theo replied, reaching out to pull open the library door.

Harry decided to let the words pass for now as they found themselves a table near the section on ‘Flying’.

Nott pulled free his notes and passed them to Harry, who thanked him. He then disappeared into the section of books, picking out a few that suited his needs and returned to read them, while Harry took out his own ink, parchment, and quill, and started on coping down Theo’s neat handwriting.

It was about half an hour later, when Harry’s hand had started to really cramp up and his eyes started to droop that Harry set his completed notes aside and turned his attention to the silent Slytherin. “Would you like me to ask him for you?” Harry asked, continuing the conversation they had abandoned earlier. It just bugged him so much and he couldn’t believe that someone _wouldn’t_ want to know why someone else didn’t like them.

Theo frowned. “Ask who what?”

“Ask Zabini why he has a beef with you.” Harry explained.

If anything, Theo’s frown deepened. “No, that won’t be necessary.” He said.

“But aren’t you even curious?” Harry pressed with burrowed eyebrows.

“Like I said, it really doesn’t matter.”

“But why not?”

“Why would it?”

“Think about it! I mean, if you knew why he was upset, and then maybe you could work it out…”

Theo sighed heavily and set down his book. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t matter what I did; he’d still hate me.”

“But _why_?” Harry growled in frustration.

“Because what he ‘thinks’ I’ve done, is unforgivable in his books.” Theo snapped.

Harry blinked in surprise. “I thought you said you didn’t know—but what does he think you’ve done?”

Theo sighed again, silently weighing his options. He could tell the Gryffindor, and risk things getting out that nobody wants. Or he could not tell him and possibly miss out on the opportunity to see if maybe, just maybe, Potter held the same feelings as Draco.

In the end, he decided to take the risk. If it did get out, he’d know who to blame, and more than that, Draco could stop pretending that it wasn’t true and maybe move on in his life.

Harry drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed the issue. I was just so—“

“Blaise is angry because he believes I’ve screwed over a good friend for my own entertainment.” Theo answered, cutting off Potter’s apology.

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised to have actually gotten a response. “Have you tried explaining the issue?”

“I have.” Theo confirmed. “The problem is, Zabini doesn’t believe me, and I can’t really blame him.”

Harry nodded slowly. “I see…if you don’t mind me asking, what _did_ actually happen?”

Knott gave Blaise’s body a stern look. “Can you keep a secret, Potter?”

Harry hesitated. _What was he getting himself into?_ But in the end, he offered the brunette a slow nod.

“Back in fifth year, Draco and I used to…we were together.”

Harry blinked. “Together?” He repeated blankly.

“As in, we were a couple. Dating, shagging; whatever you want to call it.”

“Oh,” Harry’s borrowed eyes were wide with shock. In the back of his head, he heard his Uncle Vernon voice talking about, “unnatural homo freaks!”, and had to shake his head to clear it. It wasn’t that he particularly minded homosexuality. Not like his relatives, anyway. It was just that Harry had never really thought about it before. The only time he’d ever spared a thought for it, was when his uncle was grumbling about men touching in public.

And really, Harry thought with a sigh, if his uncle had been wrong about magic, he was probably wrong about that, too. Everyone deserved happiness. Even someone like Draco Malfoy. “So, what happened? Was Blaise—er—did he—he wasn’t…jealous, right? Or…you know…” Harry trailed off with a grimace. He couldn’t even say the word ‘gay’. What hope was there for him to overcome his uncle’s prejudice if he couldn’t even say the damn word!

The brunette chuckled softly. “No. He is straight all right. Shame, that.” Theo mused with a smile. He shook his head. “Draco and I were together for a while, but I broke it off when I realized he fancied Y—Erm—someone else.” He said, cursing his almost slip up.

Harry, though, didn’t notice. He was giving Theo a look of compassion. “That sucks, I’m sorry.” He said with a sincere pat of condolence on the tall boys’ shoulder. Theo felt like laughing. “What then? Zabini couldn’t have been angry if you explained that Malfoy wasn’t interested in you any longer.”

Nott was forced to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. He never imagined he’d one day have this conversation with Harry Potter of all people. Many nights he’d spent thinking about hexing the boy, just for taking Draco from him, but in the end, he’d known that Draco had been Potter’s since before they’d started dating…possibly even since they were eleven. Yet, here Potter was, trying to console him without having the first clue that Draco Malfoy is absolutely crazy for him.

The irony was not lost on the tall Slytherin.

“I did try to explain my reasons for breaking it off, but Draco had been angry, and Zabini, ever the loyal friend, had taken his side and refused to see it my way. He believed that I should have stayed with Draco and helped him forget his crush on the other boy, but I just didn’t feel right about stringing things along. It was only going to hurt more in the long run.”

Harry nodded, the edges of his temporary mouth pointing downward. “That’s not fair of Zabini. No one deserves to be tossed aside like that. I’m sorry, Nott. I can try to talk to him? Explain things and maybe get him to let go of this grudge? I mean, it was back in fifth year, and I’m sure both you and Malfoy have moved on by now, right?”

Nott agreed, feeling strangely hopeful. Not only that Zabini might stop hexing his showers cold in the morning, but also that Potter might be gayer than he’d given the man credit for. Still, it was worrisome that Potter was still calling Draco by his last name, even after three days of being close to the man. He must see the puppy-dog looks Draco is always sending him. He must! It’s impossible not to see how much Draco fancy’s him.

If nothing else, and Potter simply doesn’t return Draco’s affections, Theo can now be assured that Potter would let him down easy, and maybe having Potter officially decline him would help Draco to finally get over the Boy-Who-Lived.

Not that Theo truly believed Draco would ever give up on him, sadly.

“What about you, Potter? Are you seeing anyone special?”

“No. I haven’t dated anyone since Ginny, and after the war we just…something had changed there, you know?”

Theo nodded, not really understanding at all. “Ah, so you aren’t gay then, either? Shame that, too.” Theo teased.

Harry blushed and murmured out a, “no, I’m straight.”

Theo smirked. Was Potter blushing? Well isn’t that interesting. “Of course you are. But have you ever been with a man? I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss it, Potter. It’s quite something. And should you ever decide to give it a try, I know just the guy for you.” He winked. “Are you finished with the notes?”

Harry, now a deep red that was only deepened by his temporary dark skin, blinked in surprise at the sudden topic change and nodded carefully, trying and failing to properly hide his flaming cheeks.

Theo collected all his things and turned back to the other boy to bid his farewells, frowning a little when he noted the dullness of the dark eyes and the droopiness of the large shoulders, despite the lively colorful cheeks and neck that proved there really was life underneath the worn-out looking man.

“Well, I should get going to my final class. I enjoyed our conversation more than I thought I would, Potter. Thank you for that. But you might want to go back to the dorms and try to get some sleep before dinner. Or perhaps a trip to Madam Pomfrey would be even better, you look pretty knackered, and from the greenish tint to your skin, you may be coming down with something.” He advised.

Harry ran a hand over his face. He’d really hoped he didn’t look as bad a he felt. He really had. “Yeah, thanks. I haven’t been feeling too hot, but I think a little sleep is all I need right now.”

Theo nodded. “Alright then, try to get some rest. I’ll catch you later, Harry.” And he left.

It took Harry a few moments before he realized the Slytherin had called him by his first name. It was odd, but Harry really was much too tired to worry on it now. Instead, he packed up his writing utensils and left the library. He knew he should probably find Zabini and explain Nott’s side of things before he forgot, but as his feet started to drag along the stone floor, Harry decided he could just do it later. He really needed to get some sleep and it was only the knowledge that he had no more classes left today that kept him moving as he descended staircase after staircase.

It was on the second floor that Harry found himself distracted from his thoughts of sleep once again that day when he came across a classroom down one of the old hallways that had been closed off for the year, and which Harry only took as a short cut when he was sure he wouldn’t be seen.

The grunts and muttered curses and spells coming from inside the classroom sounded like someone was dueling inside. Pulling his wand free, Harry cautiously approached the door to the room, which was left open just wide enough that Harry could see past the crack into the left corner of the room.

He saw a flash of gold, a muttered curse, and then another burst of light, this one a pale green.

For one crazy moment, Harry hoped that he’d find Zabini inside the room, practicing his spell work and willing to listen to Harry so that he wouldn’t have to worry about finding the Slytherin later. Instead, when he pushed the door open a bit wider, he was met with the large and intimidating figure of Gregory Goyle, who was indeed, just practicing his spell work.

At least he’d gotten that right, Harry thought. He was relieved that no one was actually being dueled in a forgotten hallway that was, until further notice, off limits.

He had just turned to go when he heard Goyle attempt to cast a spell they’d just recently learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Harry knew instantly that he’d cast it wrong. His thoughts were confirmed a second later when the man shouted out a hushed, “fuck!”, and then quickly cast a reparo. He must have broken something, Harry thought mildly.

The short-term Slytherin was clenching his hands, though. He should just go. He should get to the common rooms. He should head for the Slytherin dorms and take his nap. He _should_ leave it alone as it was none of his business, and the wizard currently casting the defense spell had spent much of their childhood bullying Harry and his friends.

He should.

But as he listened to the large boy once more cast the spell wrong, Harry flinched at the sound of braking glass and he just couldn’t help but turn around and open the door fully, allowing him access.

He just couldn’t help it! In that moment, Gregory Goyle had reminded Harry so much of Neville when they’d first started the DA, and Harry figured if he just helped Goyle correct his stance, wand movement, and wording; then he could go back to the Slytherin dorms without feeling guilty for leaving the poor man to break things from now until he figured it out.

Or he was caught in a hallway that was off limits. Whichever came first.

Goyle jumped in surprise when Harry entered the room. “Oi, Zabini, what are you doing here?” Goyle asked at once. He didn’t sound defensive or angry, merely curious.

Harry tried for a friendly enough smile. “I was just passing by when I heard you trying to cast that detector shield. I think you’ve got the wording and movement wrong…if I may?” Harry held up his wand, indicating that he’d show Goyle the proper way to cast it, and Goyle frowned.

“Oh,” He said, looking putout. “Sure. Go ahead.”

Harry was puzzled by his reaction, but still, he held out his wand and waved it three times, counter-clockwise, before flicking it twice. “You need to flick it, but lightly, as if you’re casting a Hot-Air charm, instead of a Protego. Got it? Watch.“ Harry cast the spell with no trouble, watching as the spell searched for the dark curse or spell, before finding nothing and vanishing into thin air. Harry smiled. “Now, the spell is _Impervius_ _Revelio Horribllis_ in stead of _Revelio Horribllis Imperve_. Do you see?”

Goyle shrugged, still gazing open mouthed at the spot Harry’s spell had dissipated.

“Why don’t you try it,” Harry suggested.

Goyle gulped, but nonetheless, raised his wand and tried his best to mimic Harry’s movements. “ _Revelio Horribllis Impervius!”_ He shouted gruffly.

Harry ducked quickly to avoid the miscast shield from attaching itself to him. It hit the back wall and grew a bright orange shield that covered the length of the wall. It stayed for a moment, and then it popped with hot magical waves of pressure shooting out around the room.

Harry hurriedly cast a Protego to cover them both until the magic settled into the air. He dropped the shield and Goyle looked at the wall where a burn mark had been left from the place the spell first hit. Harry chuckled, sounding rich and soft with Zabini’s deep tone. “Well, at least you remembered to make it a shield this time.” He said goodheartedly, being somewhat reminded of an occasion which Neville had accidently turned his Reducto spell into a charm that turned everything rainbow colors for a week.

Looking back at the larger boy, though, Harry’s smile dropped. Goyle looked, if Harry dare say, disheartened.

Harry had just opened his mouth to apologize for his teasing remark when Goyle yelled out, “I will never get the hang of this stupid spell!” And tossed his wand onto an old school desk with a roar of aggravation.

Harry flinched slightly, having been on the receiving end of that temper many times before in the past. Still, he couldn’t help a feeling of sympathy for the boy. Harry’s never had problems with Defensive spells, but he’s met his own share of short comings on certain aspects of school work, and he knew how tiring it can get to feel as if you aren’t making any progress at all.

Cautiously, Harry took a seat on an old stool and leveled the most encouraging smile he could drag up for the other wizard. “You’ll get the hang of it,” He said with calm certainty. “I know it can be hard at first, but you’ll get it. Everyone does in the end. What you really need to work on is the wording. You keep placing the shield at the end instead of the beginning. Why?”

Goyle shot him a befuddled look. “I’m doing what?” He asked dimly.

Harry frowned. “The shield…Impervius,or, in English, to become Impervious to; is what makes up the blocking agent in this spell. For example, when you cast Protego Totalum, you have two agents involved. Protego is your shield, and Totalum is what you are shielding—in this case, it’s an area, or dwelling. Are you with me so far?”

Goyle bobbed his head, his focus entirely on Harry. ”I think so.” He said with a vague smile.

Harry returned the smile, feeling excited that he seemed to be getting somewhere with the other student. “Good. So you cast the shield first, so that you have something to attach when you tell it where to attach it too, understand?”

“Yeah!” Goyle said enthusiastically. “Like with Protego Horribllis, you are casting a shield, and then what you are using it on, like dark magic.”

Harry’s smile widened. “Exactly! So, when you’re casting ImperviusRevelio Horriblli _,_ you have three causes-to-effect. First is your blocking, or shield—Impervius— that will then protect as you use your revealing charm – Revelio – which will be there to show you your third and final trigger, Horribllis –dark magic—that is close to you.”

Goyle was looking overwhelmed again, so Harry quickly attempted to simplify things. “Basically,” He said, standing up and raising his wand, “You want to cast a shield to protect you from any hidden curses that you uncover with your revealing spell. In some cases, when you reveal a dark curse, you won’t have time to put up a shield before it activates, so if you already have one ready to activate should you actually find one, it will save you from whatever those spells are meant to do. _Impervius_ _Revelio Horriblli_!” Harry cast, smiling when, once again, his spell took to the room, searching for a threat before deciding that there was none and slowly dissipating.

“Do you understand now?” Harry asked, turning back to the other man.

He hoped Goyle did, because those two casts had taken more out of him than they should have, and he took the stool once more, feeling a bit unsteady on his feet.

Goyle was looking at Harry in awe, and it made Harry a bit uncomfortable. “You should become a teacher, Zabini.” He told Harry in earnest. “You’re bloody brilliant!”

Harry felt surprisingly flattered to hear that, but he tried to push the feeling away and smiled lightly instead, feeling slightly woozy. “Cast the spell first, and then we can talk about my teaching skills.” He said honestly.

Goyle looked a bit uncertainly at his wand, but Harry felt like there was an uncharacteristic determination in his dark eyes. “Err,” He started after a moment. “I’ve never been very good with—uh—that Latin rubbish. Which spell comes first?”

Harry very nearly slammed his head into a dusty school desk. “Shield, Reveal, Dark Magic. Impervius,Revelio, Horriblli.”

Goyle nodded and raised his wand. “ImperviusRevelio Horriblli!” He reiterated, doing the wand motions well enough to pass for the right ones.

The golden red light shot from the end of Goyle’s wand and hovered about the room for a moment, before it dispersed into the air around them. Goyle was beside himself with glee and Harry felt a small elation at the other boys’ win, even in his tired state.

“I did it!” Goyle shouted happily. “I did it, Zabini! I did it!”

Harry laughed softly. “You did it, Goyle.” He had to agree with a grin. He stood up a bit unsteadily, and was just about to take his leave when Goyle stopped.

“Erm…” The bulky boy looked uncomfortably around before he lifted pleading eyes back on Harry. “Would you help me with this essay? I don’t understand a bloody thing about Patronus charms and you seem to know so much about this stuff…” He trailed off.

Harry, a sick feeling of acceptance coming over him, decided to at least try to post-pone this in the hopes that he might actually catch a break. “Can we do it later? I’m really feeling knackered now and I’d—“

“But you can’t!” Goyle cried in protest. “It’s due tomorrow and I’ve really nothing written. Please, Zabini?”

Harry sighed. It was only an essay. It wouldn’t take that long, right? He walked over, dumped his bag onto an old desk, and gestured for Goyle to get his homework out. Goyle dragged another dusty stool over to join Harry, his spirits high. “Thanks, Zabini. I owe you one.” He said brightly, and pulled free a roll of parchment.

He wasn’t lying; his essay had the title written, and nothing else. Harry withheld a scowl. It was going to take a lot longer than he thought, but at least they wouldn’t be casting anymore spells.

Or so he’d hoped. But as it turns out, Goyle hadn’t even been able to so much as cast the mist of a Patronus charm, and Harry soon found himself, repeatedly casting his own stag Patronus while he helped Goyle at least reach the misty stage of his own.

After that, Goyle managed to talk him into helping him out with a Meteolojinx Recanto incantation, and before Harry knew it, he was falling to his knees in exhaustion while Goyle cast a Tempus. “Merlin’s saggy left buttock, dinner’s starting! Com’on, Zabini, we don’t want to miss dinner.” He urged, helping Harry to Zabini’s feet with one hand.

Harry would very much like to miss dinner as he was having more than enough trouble even standing. “I’m not hungry,” Harry tried desperately, but Goyle wouldn’t hear it.

“You must be starving. All that casting has left me starving.” He said, and continued to drag Harry along to the Great Hall, not even noticing that Zabini’s legs seemed to have given out on him, and he was now being half carried.

The smell wafting through the Great Hall doors made Harry’s stomach twist violently, and he would have pushed Goyle away and left for the dorms if he had the strength. But all he could do was protest weakly and be forced into a seat next to Goyle, who ignored his objections, and piled his plate high with every food in sight, just as he was his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Notes: 
> 
> I’ve finally unpacked!!
> 
> Well…
> 
> Kinda.
> 
> But that’s a conversation for another time. What I really wanted to tell you all is that I am here, and as you can see, I am writing again! Woot! ^-^
> 
> As always, your reviews and kudos are most welcome! And I hope to see you next chapter. Thanks for reading. ^^ -KIAD.
> 
>  
> 
> P.S: I want to apologize for poor Harry’s sleepy-sick condition. I know some of you are confused, but I promise, all will be explained soon, and yes, this is necessary. ^^


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